


Demons of Westerburg

by brizzer



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2019-10-09 22:38:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17413856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brizzer/pseuds/brizzer
Summary: Chandler the Demon Queen of high school has it all, popularity, top spot in the Dome fights, a line of lovers, money, and is the daughter of a High Lord of Hell...what could ever could take away her power?





	1. Chapter 1: Meeting the Demon Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what y’all think?

**Veronica POV**

I was leaning against the ugly mustard yellow tile of the girl’s bathroom wall, looking out of the cracked tiny window that rested above me. When I heard the door sweep open; I instantly went on guard as those who entered disturbed my peace. When I turned my head, I relaxed my tensed shoulders as I looked at the faces of my friends; Betty Finn and Martha Dunnstock.

I nod in greeting to them and pretend I don’t see the worried glance that Martha gives me and the slightly peeved one of Betty. I return to looking out the little sliver of freedom, the bright blue sky slightly covered by the greying clouds. I give a tick of a smile as a blast of cold air hits my face and I close my eyes. Pretending that I’m out of this hell hole. Soaring above everything, no school, no drama, no Dome, no demons to worry about just me and the open sky.

I hear a snap of impatient fingers close to my face. I open my eyes and frown as I turn my attention to Betty. Her brows are turn slightly downward and her black tail behind her is swishing back and forth in sign of aggravation. She steps back as she crosses her arms.

I sigh as I look from her to the water dripping from the faucet that some student didn’t turn off the whole way. I can hear her growl at me avoiding looking at her; perhaps if I don’t acknowledge her then I don’t have to have the fight that I know is about to happen.

_Riiing._

Shit, was that the late bell? Oh, well.

Martha looks up at the noise with a look of nervousness. She has always been one to follow the rules, more regulated on it then Betty and me. I mean I want to get into good colleges after I graduate this hell hole but a few tardies aren't going to wreck me. Besides my 5.0 GPA will make Duke, Stanford or any other Ivy league college not even glance at my attendance record.

Finally, Betty snaps, her voice echoing in the tiny titled room, “Were where you?”

I know what she’s talking about, but I can’t find it in myself to care. I frown as I think about the class that I missed, Dome training.

It counts as our “gym” and “good civilian duty” towards hell kind. Fights between different schools of demons, angles, and humans alike. To show the different species who brings control of the different domains. I hate the idea, the concept, because we all know that we are pons in the bigger game between the two Kings. The Dome is a pissing match between the pons and them; but my pity goes to the humans. They don’t even realize that their being used. We call them flesh bags for a reason.

I scoff, “I was obviously in the bathroom.”

 I watch as Betty’s tail pauses then twitches in anger. I look into her eyes. Behind her glasses her eyes sit a blueish green that anyone would be envious of. Her pupils narrow into slits of a cat and shit. I know that look. My sarcasm was not appreciated, and I look to Martha for help. Ever the savior, Martha steps forward and puts a hesitant hand on Betty who freezes as she turns to me with a disapproving frown.

 “We were just worried for you,” she frowns, “You know how much trouble you can get for skipping the Dome. There was a match today.”

Fuck, missing a match is huge. I didn’t think there would be one so soon, school just started. Who was called to fight?

Betty growls, “Yeah, the idiot is lucky we covered for her.”

 I smile in appreciation for the two. I honestly won’t know what I would do without them. In a school filled with demons, who crave and rip each other apart for power; these two understand and accept one that doesn’t have any abilities. Well…one power; that she-I must keep hidden. My heart pings with guilt as I realize how they protect and trust me, yet I can’t tell them my secrets. No one must know here; they would rip me to shreds. It’s for their own protection, I remind myself.

“Thank you. What did you tell the instructor?” I ask as I lean against the wall with a better angle, so my shoulders are even. They’re still sore from last night.

 Betty lips curl into a smirk, “Explosive diarrhea.” I curl my lip in disgust.

Great, there goes whatever cool factor I had.

Martha gasps, “Betty!” She delivers a cackling Betty a small smack then rubs the area to make the barley their sting less painful as she mumbles an apology. I roll my eyes in fondness. Martha always a softie.

Martha looks to me as she steps away from a smirking Betty, “Don’t worry, Veronica. We didn’t say anything of the sort.”

She throws Betty a kitten glare as Betty smirk grows. Betty jumps onto the sink and leans her head into me like a cat would. She kicks her feet back and forth, her dirty black ankle boots with spikes swinging threatening to stab anyone in proximity.  I hide my smile as I bring my hand up to stroke her pixie cut hair. I have a half of a mind to joke that she’s going to shed all over my leather jacket.

“Aw don’t be a buzzkill Marth. Veronica knows we are just playing.” Betty angles her face as she looks up to me with big innocent eyes. Her tail brushes my hand and I can’t help but play with it around my hand. The brown fur soft against my skin. When a demon strokes you with their tail it typically leaves off their scent and is a sign of trust. After all, their tail is sensitive and a valuable part of their body, but not every demon has one. Much like light colored eyes it runs in traits.

 I snort, “When have you ever been innocent?” I watch as I let the tail trail in between my fingers. Betty pouts as she looks back down but remains leaning on me.

 “You know that as a lust powered demon I am anything from innocent.”

She tries to joke but it comes out a little sullen. I share a frown with Martha. We both know that Betty hates her powers at times. She hates how as a lust demon, she feels used by the trash of this school. I want to pound all of them in the ground. I tug on her tail, she gives me a less than threatening growl.

“You know what I meant,” I tell her affirmed, as I look down at her with a serious face. Betty looks away from me to Martha who nods in agreement, her dirty blonde locks bounce with the motion. I wrap my hand around her shoulder, and I hug a frowning Betty who attempts to struggle at the sudden contact.

Betty is always more of the hard emotional “dead inside” friend that cracks sarcastic, inappropriate jokes; but I know she hates that her powers make her do things that she wishes she could take back. Demons even have inner ones, they wish to destroy. I look at Martha for help.

“No one here is judging you Bets. We love you no matter what, demon powers included.” I feel another set of arms as Martha joins in the hug.

 “Yeah Betty,” Martha looks up to me and Betty and gives an encouraging smile. Betty grumbles something incoherent before she slumps and returns the hug with minuscule effort.

I feel a small tap and I look over to Martha who smiles mischievously, and I raise my brow in question, “Your purr-fect to us.”

 I freeze as humor grows inside of me with a warm feeling. I glance at Betty and Betty glares at her. Martha steps back giggling. I look at her before I snort out a laugh. Betty always has been butt-hurt when we crack cat jokes at her. Since her demon genes make her look human but come with feline attributes that she can’t get rid of completely; like her eyes and tail. 

“You’re the worst,” I tell Martha. Martha just shrugs with a small proud smile as Betty pouts. Her arms crossed as she leans back against the mirror.

 “That was so not funny Marth,” she grumbles but I see the hidden mirth. I look at Martha and wink as I put my arm around Betty.

 “I don’t know Betty,” I sing, “I thought it was cat-tastic!” Betty eyes narrow as she shoves me off. After a minute she joins and all three of us are giggling at our dorky selves.

The joyful moment is broken however when the door is slammed open. Martha yelps and grabs onto my arm as Betty jumps with her combat boots now on the counter. We watch with wide startled eyes as a green flash goes to one of the stalls and starts retching. We all were matching looking of disgust. One more worried than others. Martha takes a hesitant step towards the stall and freezes as the retching grows louder. She pouts in sympathy and struggles whether or not to enter with the girl. I scrunch up my nose, poor bastard. What luck to catch the stomach bug on one of the first few days of school. We all pause as the door is opened by someone else.

 “Come on Heather, bulimia is so…” the voice stops midsentence as we all stare at one another. The only noise is Heather as she pukes into the toilet and the slight noise of the facet. Standing proud at the door is Heather Chandler in all her mythic bitch glory. Her sharp black painted nails clawed against the wood as she holds it open. I make eye contact with the silver orbs that are her eyes. They flash with surprise then quickly are over shadowed by the arrogance and bitchiness that we all know and love.

“Move Heather, I think she ran into this…” Heather McNamara pauses her attempt to squeeze past Chandler as she looks from under her arm to us. McNamara’s bright blue eyes mirror ours with surprise. Her honey blonde hair up in a ponytail matching her usual yellow outfit.

Heather vomits again and Heather b-lines for the stall, leaving Chandler at the door alone. Chandler makes her entrance with her red painted lips curled in a sneer as she stalks into the bathroom, heels clinking. Pointed canines and eyes flaring dangerously as she takes large steps towards us.

I cross my arms and act unimpressed as she stops halfway, protectively in front of who I assume Duke’s stall to be. Martha scrambles back until she hides in between me and Betty. Betty slides back down so she’s sitting on the fake marble top of the sink. She mirrors my crossed arms. I tilt my head as I wait for the bitch to open her mouth. Betty wears her usual snarl at the popular crowd. I feel a protective flare for them.

Betty is known as a “lesser” demon because she has mixed blood of demon and human. You’re considered lesser even if you have a drop of it. Pure blood bitches like the Heathers’ often pick on them because they aren’t as powerful. You can also spot them out because they can’t hide their demon forms as well leaving them with traits exposed, much like Betty’s eyes or tail. More the traits, more of a mutt they are. Whether it be a mixture of half demon and human or lesser demon with lessor demon.

Thankfully, Duke has stopped vomiting. However, the stench sweeps from the stalls and her hard, tired breaths echo in the small room. I’ve heard of the rumors of Heather Duke making herself purge but I never thought that they were real. I can’t imagen how someone would be so desperate to be pretty that they would make themselves vomit.

We hear McNamara ask concerningly, “Maybe you should see a doctor Heather.” We all hear Duke snort as she spits.

“Gross,” I hear Duke mutter before responding, “Yeah Heather maybe I should.”

I wonder if she’s being sarcastic or not. It’s always been hard to tell when Duke’s being sarcastic with her carefully created mask and voice giving nothing away. Chandler posts herself out of the stall as she narrows her silver eyes daring us to say something.

I look down and notice with dread at the glistening half-dried blood on her red shirt and leather pants. Well at least I know who fought today. Even though it doesn’t surprise me. I hate to admit but Heather, well all of the Heathers, are hell of good fighters in the Dome. Chandler however is exceptional; being undefeated. Would make sense as the daughter of the Greater Demon Asmodeus. Aka; Greater Demon of Wrath and Lust, amongst other things.

“Well? What are you waiting for an invitation? Get out,” Chandler orders as her glower burns into us. Her one nail taps against the plastic door impatiently.

 I feel Betty tense up behind us and I put a hand on her knee. Hopefully to calm her down before she says something stupid. You have to be careful around Wrath demons, quick to anger, eager to fight. I know Heather would put all of us out of commission.

I observe her relaxed form. Her red mane is curly in a half up/ half down wear in a curly lax ponytail. Her pale skin is flickered with dried blood, not that she cares. It reminds the rest of us what happens to those who fight against her. I’m sure she likes to wear it like a type of make-up, to booster about yet another victim dead against the queen bee.

Chandler toned form twitches with irritably. I watch as the tendons flex under her skin as she taps the plastic, we all know it contains hidden strength in those muscles. She stops and leans back with her hands behind her.

Betty either stupidly or bravely replies, “We were here first.”

Martha and I flick concerned glazes at one another. Now, it not the best time to let your anger get ahead of you Betty.

Chandler eyes flick to her and she narrows her eyes as she assesses her. Betty tail puffs out and straightens it at the threat. If I knew we weren’t in possible shit, I would laugh.

“I don’t give a shit. Now shoo kitty,” Chandler snides. Heather flicks her hand in a ‘get away’ motion. Betty lip curls and I watch as her pupils dilate. Betty determinedly crosses her legs and makes no move to move. I feel like something is about to happen and I feel myself tense with anticipation. I can sense Martha’s anxiousness grow.

“Why should we be the ones to leave?” Betty challenges.

Oh god, Betty shut up. I flicker my gaze nervously to Heather. I know that the pure bloods haven’t been the kindest to us, but it doesn’t mean we should pick fights with the strongest fucking ones. Heather’s eyes narrow as her lip curls to snarl, her white canines on display. I swallow down my nerves as I stare at them.

“You got some nerve _pussy cat_ …,” she spits out the name, “…for that I’ll let you and you’re…” she trails off as she eyes the rest of us. I feel my skin crawl as her dangerous glint scans my form. I subconsciously put my hands in my leather jacket and pull it tighter around me. A strong smell of anger emits from Betty and I fight the urge from covering my nose., “…weak blooded friends leave unharmed.”

“The fuck, oh no she didn’t,” Betty growls, she tenses her legs and leaps. Her anger outrunning her brain. Welcome to stupid-vile, population us.

 I manage to catch her before she can pounce. I grunt as Betty elbows me in the face, “Shit. Martha help!”

“Let me go! I can take her!” Betty pleads.

“No, you can’t you, dumb fuck!” I argue. Betty hisses and growls in response.

“Ow! Calm down Betty! Shit!” I say as I receive multiple scratches and good hits.

Betty struggles and squirms; her tail swishing and her claws out. I looked over my shoulder and glare at the person who caused it. Did I mention Heather Chandler is a bitch?

Martha helps me restrain Betty from getting an ass whooping. Chandler watches us bored. McNamara sticks her head out of the stall, probably curious of me swearing and Betty hissing. She turns to Chandler with a pointed brow.

“What’s going on?” McNamara questions. Chandler huffs as she flickers her gaze from the stall door to us. She turns her head to McNamara.

“Apparently these excuses of demon’s can’t control their alley cat,” she retorts.

 McNamara looks to us and covers her mouth, but I see the smile. Bitches. I finally pick Betty up and hug her to my chest. I can feel her rumble with concealed hisses and growls as she realizes she won’t get to her target. I glare at Chandler in blame. She lifts a brow up in response.

 “Get the fuck out. I’ve been more than patient with you losers. I won’t tell you again.” Chandler states.

I know she’s being honest. I can remember vividly at how I was by my locker when a body was thrown from the bathroom. A pissed off full demon formed Heather Chandler standing over a cowering, battered of a boy. His body outline stamped into the metal lockers, like some form of cartoon character after they’ve fallen from great heights. She picked up his crumpled form by his neck as she re-slammed him into the wall. Her eyes glowing blood red as her horns curled around her head in a protective crown. Her nails and teeth enlarged into claws and sharp canines, her hand digging into her prey’s neck. She leans forward and growls with so much power and hate I swear it shook the school. I shake my head from the memory.

As I go to carry Betty out, we all turn as the door opens and my stomach drops as instructor Flemming walks in. She is a lesser demon as well, but unlike the rest of us that look more human she is more demon-oid. Her skin is a pink like she always has a sun burn, her glasses specially made for her three eyes. Her hair is in an frizzy brown mess, her peace sign necklace shining ironically on her red neck. As she walks in, she crosses both sets of arms and her one mouth smirks as the other talks. She’s not the prettiest sight.

 “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Flemming asks rhetorically.

Chandler doesn’t bother to hide her hateful scowl as McNamara freezes. I notice she grabs Heather’s sleeve as she stares at Flemming. Betty, Martha and I all look at one another and nod. We’ve all skipped class before but thanks to me and my loser hobbies I’ve learned how to get us out of it. Betty plants her feet as they both shuffle in front of me. I take a pen from my pocket and grab a piece of emergency scrap paper I have and start to write on the corner of the sink. _Please excuse Veronica Sawyer, Betty Finn, Martha Dunnstock from class as they’re out on official Dome business._

 “Heather. Heather,” I feel a hit of pity as Duke’s urge to purge hits her again. The splash of the contents of the girl’s stomach to the toilet water make my stomach churned. God, why does she do that to herself? Even Flemming has the decency to wince at the noise. “…and Heather. Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell with all of the vomiting your late to class.”

Chandler scowl grows as Mrs. Flemming seems to be ignoring us and only focusing on them. Chandler’s eyes cut to me before she goes uncaringly. “Heather wasn’t feeling so well. We’re helping her.”

Both of Flemming’s mouths curl into smirks, I can’t help but shutter. “Not without a hall pass you aren’t. Week’s detention all of you.”

I don’t know what possess me, but I quick add their names. _Please excuse Veronica Sawyer, Betty Finn, Martha Dunnstock, Heather Chandler, Heather Duke, Heather McNamara from class as they’re out on official Dome business._ I put the head of the Dome program on their knowing that he’s hard to reach. He’s a pureblood so he won’t even associated himself with Flemming. I know it’s messed up but works in my corner.

“Umm... actually Mrs. Flemming” Both Heathers turn to me and poor Duke stumbles out of the stall as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. I feel a punch of pity as I look at her green form. She looks like shit. Mrs. Flemming blinks as if she just realized that I was in the room. “All of us are out on a hall pass,” I pause knowing Betty is going to be pissed with me. “Dome committee.”

She reaches out with her bottom right hand and snatched the paper out of my hand as if I’ll poison her. She brings it up to her face and I watch as all three of her eyes flicker the paper, looking for anything wrong with it. I feel a pinch and I turn to Betty’s angry frown. Her eyes are narrowed screaming, ' The fuck.' Yep, she’s mad. We hear a sad sigh.

“Hurry up and go wherever you’re going.” She throws the paper back at me and then makes her way out. I catch it and smirk as I turn to a Chandler. She has her head tilt as she scans me questioningly.  She catches my gaze and quickly frowns. I grab Betty’s arm before anything else can happen and I go, “You’re welcome.” I pull a stubborn Betty and Martha follows. I hear as she quietly whispers to Duke. “Feel better.”

We walk down the hall and eventually, as I knew it was coming, I feel as Betty slams me into the lockers and I grunt with impact. Martha looks at me worriedly and I put my hand up in a gesture to stop her from interfering. She pauses but brings her hand up and bites on her thumbnail nervously watching our transaction. We both know that Betty can get ahead of her feelings at time, and it’s best to let her tired herself out. I look down as Betty looks up at me. Her arm across my chest and her other holding my wrist to the wall of lockers. Her eyes narrowed, her pupil’s barley there in angry slits.

“What the fuck was that?!” She hisses. Her tail swishing rapidly behind her.

 I know what she means. I can see the hurt in her eyes-the Heathers and those like them have bullied us for all our lives. We used to get along when we were little, but we’ve grown. It sparked a change we became mean less…human? I look down at the smaller girl and hope that my remorse shows in my eyes. I don’t feel bad for helping them out, I feel bad that I hurt my friend.

“I’m sorry Betty. I didn’t do it to hurt you or Martha. I’ve been victim to them too. I just thought after hearing Duke she could use a break. And the Heathers’ are typically a package.” I side smile hoping she’ll smile back. She doesn’t; she just growls.

“Why? Why would you help those…those…blood ranked bitches! They have been nothing but tortured us our entire lives! And maybe, the one time when they can’t power themselves out of punishment, you _help_ them?” She says, and I bit my lip as I look down. What can I say? She’s right.

I take a breath, “I don’t know if I’m being honest I just…I had a feeling Betty.” She stops moving and I can see that she is waiting. I look to Martha, but she seems just as intrigued. Even though I’ve never had quote on quote “powers” in their eyes; they know about these feelings or intuition that I get. Typically, I follow it and they usually turn out to be right; but it only comes out for something major. Like the time that I sensed that Martha’s great grandmother was going to pass. I don’t like to think about that.

“What feeling Ronnie?” Martha asks gently over Betty’s shoulder. I swallow as I look into the hurt eyes of Betty. I grab her forearm that’s on my chest and squeeze it in reassurance.

“I don’t know entirely but I just knew that I needed to put their names on the note. I mean life is sucky enough why not do something nice and make it beautiful?” I look up into their gazes. I can’t read Betty’s, but Martha just seems contemplative.

I try to joke, “But hey…” my voice cracks, “…it’s like they owe us now. Isn’t it?” Betty glances between my eyes and I hope she can see how sincere I am. _Riiing._ We ignore the click of doors opening as the thirty-minute block period has ended and soon the over bearing noises of footsteps and talking. People start coming out of class and give us weird glances. She sighs as she leans back; leaving me a little less pressure on my chest. She runs a hand through her short hair with the hand that she was holding my wrist with.

 “I don’t know Ronnie. Once a bully always a bully. People like us…. we don’t get second glances from them. So why should we?”

I pause thinking about what she said. Would the Heathers save us if the roles where reversed? No, they won’t have. But I can’t explain the feeling like I needed to.

Martha interjects, “They might not be the nicest…” No shit. Betty scoffs. “But everyone deserves kindness.” I smile, thank god for Martha. If only they knew her secret, then everyone would leave her alone. It’s just because of her looks and that she hangs out with us.

“I don’t know if that rule should apply to the literal demon queen Marth,” Betty says as she stands back. I roll my shoulders as I try to get sting of the hit out. Betty crosses her arms and refuses to look at me. “But I still think you messed up Ronnie. And…I don’t mean about how you were nice to the cruelest bitches in school. But when have you known the Heather’s owe anyone?”

I freeze as her logic hits me, oh shit. What did I do?

….

For the rest of the day I have been on paranoia overload. Why did Betty have to say that? Every class I’ve worried if a Heather is going to be in class and jump me or something. I know I’m being ridiculous…or not knowing them. Thankfully, most of my classes are filled with nerds and the jocks stay at their end of the room. No Heathers, well that was until my AP literature class. I walked in and low behold sits Heather Duke in all her green glory. I quickly snap my gaze away and slink myself to the farthest desk away as possible.

I put my hand on my temple as I try to not oh-so-subtle look at her. Maybe she hasn’t seen me? I look at her outfit. Puzzlement hits me as I notice her casual outfit, the Heather’s always wear the latest trends. Duke has on dark blue jeans with black and white vans. Her top is an off the shoulder dark green top. Her black hair is pulled back in a styled messy braid. Her bangs carefully curly around her face accenting her clean jaw line. Then as sensing my stare Heather turns her head and I don’t breathe as we lock gazes. Her bored expression turns to harsh suspension as her emerald eyes narrow. I gulp and find my lap the most interesting thing in the world. Good job Veronica, that wasn’t obvious at all.

The teacher walks in, Mr. Tubon. His ears slightly pointed and has scales of an anaconda in odd patches all over his skin. His eyes, like Betty’s, are slanted. He starts to write: Welcome to AP Lit on his board along with his name. After, a minute or two I gather up the bravery to look over and Duke now has her arms crossed and her lip curls back as some boy makes futile attempts to talk to her. She promptly looks out the window and ignores him. The poor boy doesn’t seem to pick up on her aggravation; as he tries to double his efforts to get her to notice him.

In trying to woo her, he magically uses his powers to grow a rose in the middle of her desk, carefully making sure Mr. Tubon doesn’t notice. Using powers outside of certain areas are a big no, unless you’re the right demon that is. Duke turns back and blankly looks at the black rose. The boy smiles and I can see the vines on his arm twitch in hope. Duke leans forward with a smile and closes her eyes as she smells the rose. The boy preens and I watch as she cresses the flower before giving a wicked smile. With her gentle touch I watch the flower die as she uses her power. The boy watches with shocked horror, she crushes the now dead petals and blows them all over his face. The boy’s vines clamp shut as he turns around with a pale face. That’s funny as it is horrid.

I can’t stop watching as the dried, dead petals now scattered all over the floor. I gulp, I really hope that is not me soon. I barley pay attention to the lecture as I continue to glance at Heather. She is resting her chin in her hand as she looks out at the window for majority of it, lost in her own thoughts. I wonder what she’s thinking about…probably someone’s demise. Well she doesn’t seem that hostile, I mean if she wanted me dead, she would’ve done something by now…right? I’m probably worrying about nothing. I take a deep breath and attempt to write down what’s on the board. George Orwell human author- Big Brother. What does he represent? It represents the government and the constriction of media and beliefs. If Big Brother says 2 + 2 = 5; it must be true. What does this say about our society? And everything wrong with the leaders? I scoff, much like our society? I shake my head in disbelief.

I jump as the bell rings, _Riiiiing_. I shake my head at myself, wow I’m being such a pillowcase. I wish that I can fast forward to the end of the day. I smile as I think of my plans for later, well after the ones with Betty and Martha. I frown, ugh I’m probably going to have to listen to Betty bitch at me for the rest of tonight. I take a deep sigh through my nose as I gather up my books. My stomach growls and I can find myself glad for lunch for once. Even as gross as the food is, I need something inside me now, maybe I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.

I try to look over people’s heads as I look for the familiar forms of Betty and Martha in the crowded hallway. I gasp as someone runs into me and I relax as I recognize the light blue sweater with a unicorn on front, “Oh hey, Martha.”

She looks up to me and smiles, her right dimple showing, “Hey Ronnie. How was your last class?”

I shrug, “Good as you can expect. Duke was in it.” Martha’s eyes widen as she gazes my form for any signs of fowl play. She gently touches my arm in a silent question. I rub the back of my neck, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just kinda freaked that Betty might be right and they’re gonna do something. I mean I kinda egged them on.”

Martha bits her low lip and chews on it for a moment, she has to turn her body sideways so a small group of girls can squeeze past, “I don’t know, maybe they won’t do anything? Like you said we… well you helped them out.”

I shrug once more and stop as I reach my locker. I take my textbooks and switch them for my afternoon classes. I take Martha’s books and put them in my locker with me, after all; why make her walk all the way to her locker if we can just share? She flashes me an appreciative smile.

“Are we still on for movie night?” She asks me. I look at her like she’s crazy, we always go to one another’s houses after school unless something else comes up.

I elbow her playfully, “Of course. You’re on jiffy pop detail, right?” Martha nods her head in agreement. I shut my locker as we make our way towards Betty’s.

“So what movie are we doing tonight?”

 Martha bounces in her excitement as she answers me, “I rented the Princess Bride!”

I groan as I laugh, “Ohh… again?” Of course, she would, “Haven’t you memorized it by now?”

Martha shrugs sheepishly and mumbles, “I like happy endings, okay?” I frown at that. Martha has put up more shit then she should. If I didn’t know that she was a demon I would’ve bet my life that she was an angle or part. She’s the nicest ~~demon~~ person I know.

I hip check her to regain her attention, “Fine we’ll deal with your happy ending but next time I get to pick and it’s going to be a horror.”

 Martha grimaces, and I smile deviously. Martha hates horror and Betty and I love them. As we near Betty’s locker we run into a scene that makes me wish that I had some sort of power, so I beat the living shit out of some of these assholes, and speaking of assholes, Jacob Matthews. First born son of a Pyrokinetic demon, which means he has literal fire power on his side. He’s not necessarily a pure demon but has enough power to shut anyone up. He runs with the other strong demons; the country club.

I watch as Betty snarls, “Fuck off! I’m not some toy you can play with!” She slams her locker shut in anger, but I can see the underline fear. I pick up my pace with Martha not far behind. I feel anger build up as I grow near, who does this self-proclaiming prick even think he is?!

Jacob ignores Betty’s outburst and he leans forward as he eyes her hungrily, “Aw don’t be like that pussy cat. You know that you want to.”

Betty lip curls back in a silent snarl, “As if.” Jacob’s smirk only grows as he leans forward, pinning Betty between him and the lockers. A scent of fear hits me and it makes something inside me snarl.

“Now, don’t be mean. You are going to enjoy it, I mean after all you’re a lust demon it’s what you do. You’re a natural whore.” I watch with aghast as Betty’s bravo crumbles. She tries to keep herself together and pushes him away, but he doesn’t budge.

I hear a wolf whistle as some dickwad goes, “Alright! Get Ready Betty already pulling her panties down!” Jacob turns and laughs as his country club pricks stop to watch a few feet away.

A spark of anger grows as I see hurt flash across her face at the nickname. My usually cocky best friend turns into an uncomfortable uncertain demon as soon as someone says that dumb nickname or talk about her powers. I hate it. I hate them. I make my way up to her locker as I grab the sleeve of Jacobs polo shirt. I yank him hard enough to pull him away from Betty. Betty wide eyes lock into mine and I feel myself grow with spark with power. I position myself between him and my friends, making sure they’re both behind me. Protect them something in me screams. So, I turn to Betty’s assailant.

“Excuse me. Who the fuck do you think you are?” I ask as I step up toward him. No one should be treated like that.

He stops laughing with his buddies as he steps towards me. He runs his hand threw is mop of a hair. I hate to admit it but if he wasn’t a disgusting worm, I’d call him handsome. He towers over my five-foot eight inches form by a good four inches and is solidly built. His horns are black and are sharp little points peeking out of his styled locks.

“You heard me,” he teases. My lip curls as I step up so I’m nose to nose with him. I can see Martha comforting Betty and it makes something spark inside me.

“Apologize,” I grit out between teeth. My hand clenches into fists so tight it hurts. I really want to deck him, but I know I won’t win. My heart pounds with anger, adrenaline, and nerves. I look into his dark smug eyes. He throws his head back and looks to his friends as if confirming they’re seeing this too. They all smile and gaze at me hungrily. It pisses me off.

“I wonder what gives you the right to pick on my friend? You’re a high school has been, a future gas station attendant.”

He leans towards me fast, and I lean back to avoid being head butted. I find my nerves wavering as he smiles cockily as she flicks my face, “You have a zit right there.” I feel myself turn red in anger and embarrassment as the hall erupts with laughter. I suddenly find myself being shoved on the floor. I feel my back hit the bottom of a locker and I look up with slight fear as flame spread across his shoulders. I look over as I hear Betty fight and Martha struggle against his friends. My heart drops. I’m fine getting beat up but not my friends. He curls his lips into a smile, but it falls at a sound of a well-known voice.

“Fuck off Mathews! That loser is mine!”

The crowd, that I wasn’t aware of forming, parts as Chandler and the rest of the Heathers follow. Heather stares down anyone who dares look in her direction. She turns to me and I thought I saw something other than anger, but I guess I was wrong as she curls her lip towards a groupie of jocks. Great, what does she want?

Heather marches up to Jacob and he looks fearful for a moment before he recaps on his charming smirk. I realize as he puts it on; it’s a mask, he’s just as scared as we are of Chandler. I can practically smell the nerves coming from him. I guess the demon queen is going to repay me already. I look up with a smirk, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I am suddenly lifted into the air by my collar as Heather shows part of her full demon form. Her horns grown from her temples, they’re cream colored, as one branch circles around her head and shorter branched towards her face. Her canines grow and enlarge to daggers capable of ripping out anyone’s throat. I feel my shirt tear as her nails grow into claws. I grab her wrist as I get lifted even higher into the air as her already imposing 5’ 7” form grows to towering height. I look over helplessly to Betty and Martha; who went from Jacob’s friends clutches to the other Heather’s. I am unsure which one is worse. McNamara restraining a thrashing Betty and Duke standing with a shaking Martha. Betty looks at me with eyes that scream, ‘Told you. Bitches are Bitches’.

McNamara leans forward and whispers something to her, I can’t hear it from this distance but whatever she says calms Betty down. Betty looks to me and nods. I looked at her in confusion. What? What does she mean by that? My attention is pulled back to Chandler as her voice comes out more graveled as she lets some of her power roll off her. Oh fuck, oh fuck, what did I do? I wrap my hand around her wrist, as anger gets replaced by fear. I shouldn't have fucking helped her. Help a demon and you end up going to hell.

 **“This loser and those two,”** she points towards Betty and Martha, **“are The Heathers for the next week. Anyone that has a problem will go through us,”** she growls.

She pulls me towards her, and I close my eyes expecting my body to meet the same fate as that one boy. A battered mess as my body molds into the lockers. Instead I feel a powerful heat behind me and something sharp jabbed into my throat, the scent of roses and something akin to smoke reach my nose. Heather has spun me around, so my back is against her torso, I feel my hand grabbing her arm as she has her knives for nails posed at my throat. Ready to rip it out, if she chooses. I can feel her hot breathes hit against my side of the face and I find the courage to look up. Heather is glaring red daggers at Jacob. I can literally feel the waves of aggression and strong emotion emit from Heather and my body responds as I go into flight/fight mode. My muscles tense and I feel a strong will to want to rip apart anything. Something.

Heather’s gifts as being daughter of a Hell Lord and pureblood gives her the ability to use her gifts on others. She can control them with wrath and lust. Causing those around her to feel her fury, to want to gain up in arms to her cause. Then if they can’t get angry enough, she uses her charm to seduce them to her biding.

I close my eyes painfully tight trying to regain myself, Veronica, it’s Heather you’re reacting to her. I take a calming breath and I slowly open my eyes. Watching as Jacob tenses, debating whether to get his prey back or not. Demons don’t like sharing. Finally, he stands up and sneers at me with death promised in his eyes. Great, after Heather is done killing me, he’ll come back and rip apart whatever is left or me...or tap dance on my corpse. I see other demons tense ready to act on Chandler's word; her wrath becoming theirs.

“I’ll see you later skank,” he threatens towards me. Heather growls at that and I can feel the powerful vibrations go through my body. I feel a fresh wave of fear hit me. Fuck, what have I gotten myself into? I can feel sweat start to form at my brow and I am unsure whether it’s from fear or the rolling heat coming from Heather’s body. We stand like that until he and his jerk ass friends fade from the crowd. No one else dares to move; to afraid to be Chandler's new target.

 **“Well what are you waiting for? Get your sorry asses to class,** ” She growls and like a whip they all scurry and scatter their way towards their next room.

 I can feel as Heather’s body relax a miniscule. I turn my head to look back at her. What is she going to do to me? I could fight her sure, but my ass is grass either way. She seems calm as she watches people go to and fro. I release how close we are and the claws not even inches from my throat. I bite my lip unsure if I should say anything. I want her to let me go. When my attention refocuses, I see that she is already watching me. I feel a strange flutter in my stomach as a feeling of something hits me. I take a deep breath and my nose fills with roses and smoke. It’s an interesting combination. I hear myself growl at Heather, and I watch as her pupils dilate at my challenge.

Someone clears their throat loudly and we turn to see the Heathers and my friends waiting for us. Duke and Betty wear matching arms crossed, but were Betty is frowning, Duke is looking uncaringly. McNamara looks something between awe and curious? Martha just watches us nervously.

Hell, I feel that Martha.

“Well are you coming, Heather?” Duke asks. I can feel Heather tense as she pulls me closer. I look up worriedly and Heather seems to be at war with herself. She must not be used to letting her victims live. Her past Dome fights fly through my head: bloody, horrifying and graceful.

“Shut up, Heather,” Chandler growls with narrowed eyes. Duke just rolls her eyes in response. Heather lets go of me and I thankfully take my step away, but before I get to far, she grabs my throat. I look into her eyes once again, I start to feel fear and anger build up inside. She leans forward and whispers hotly, threateningly, “Now you owe me, weak blood.”

She pulls back, and I feel her claws dig into my skin. I swallow at the threat. Her claws dig into my throat and she pulls back quickly. I flinch at the sudden pain. I bring my hand up and I pull it away. I relax at no blood, but I know I’ll be wearing these claw marks for a few days. I look up to glare, but I only receive their retreating colorful backsides. What a mythic bitch.


	2. Chapter 2 The freak in the Bathroom

**Chandler POV**

When I ripped the golem’s throat out during the Dorm fight, I wasn’t expecting to chase Heather Duke into a bathroom, on the urge to vomit at the sight. Honestly what a pillowcase. Satan, it’s only a little bit of blood…well technically not even blood more like sludge. Even so what’s the damage? I look down to see the grey blood-like ooze splattered all over my outfit in distaste. Damn, I just bought these.

“Hurry up Heather!” I look up to see Mac get ahead of me. Her white vans squeaking against the tile floor as she runs ahead in a yellow blur. I roll my eyes at her, I don’t run for anyone. I watch as she anxiously looks down the hall towards the nearest bathroom. She’s like a dog waiting for its master on a hike. She pouts her lip out at my normal speed and she crosses her lean arms in impatience. Her yellow demi shorts with the white and yellow stripped cotton t-shirt make a startling, but not unflattering contrast to her sun kissed skin. Mac has always been naturally pretty; it’s annoying.

I sigh expatriated, “Will you relax? I’m sure she’s fine.”

I start to push it open as I hear faint sound of Duke’s breakfast meeting the toilet water. Gross; I do not envy her. “Come on Heather, bulimia is so…”

When I get to the door I pause as I open it. I wasn’t expecting the bathroom to be filled. We stare at one another for a heartbeat with startled eyes. When the surprise wears off, I recognized the one with cat eyes and tail. She is the sluty lust demon; Get Ready Betty. Even though I share the same set of powers with her, I control others, and don’t let them control me like she does. She brings me and mine to shame. I curl my nails into the wood at the thought.

Then is an overweight demon, I don’t know her powers to be exact, but the deformity is probably hidden under that ugly sweater she has on. I believe Kurt and Ram refer to her as Dumptruck…it seems an appropriate nickname.

Next, my eyes lock onto her. The freak, the demon that shows no deformities but shows no powers. Her skin is mocha colored under all the black she has on. Can’t she add a little color? I look up from her beat up combat boots that string up to her calf to her ripped black jeans, a very dark blue flowy top to be covered by a leather jacket. Great, lesser demons.

They disgust me; they shouldn’t even be allowed to call themselves demons in my opinion. With little to sometimes no powers they don’t even bring anything but shame to hell kind. What’s the use of a weak demon? And don’t even get me started on their appearance; their ugly as they’re useless.

I feel someone try to squeeze themselves near my hip. I look down as Mac tries to shove her way in by ducking under my arm.

“Move Heather, I think she ran into this…” she trails off much like I did, looking at the three with surprise, but hurriedly rushes towards Duke as she vomits again. I fix my face as I show them my descended canines. I am not worried about them saying anything but a little reminder of who their dealing with won’t hurt. Dumptruck’s eyes widen and she back tracks to hide behind her friends, as I stalk my clam in the room.

I stop and lean against the divider of the stalls. I leave them less space in the room-away from the stall door so I can save the little bit of dignity that Duke has left. They don’t need to see her like this. I watch as the two boots twins cross their arms and act unimpressed. The larger one avoids eye contact as she hides between the two.

Pathetic.

An overwhelming silence takes over the room along with the smell of bile. I hear Duke let out hard, tired breaths. I flick my gaze at the feet under the door. Duke’s black vans and jeans show curled by the toilet as Mac’s white shoes standing. Ugh, doesn’t she know the bathroom floors never get cleaned?

I hear Mac ask concerningly, “Maybe you should see a doctor Heather.” We all hear Duke snort as she spits. I can practically hear Mac fidgeting her hands as she restrains herself from touching Duke in comfort. 

“Gross,” I hear Duke mutter before responding, “Yeah Heather, maybe I should.”

 I roll my eyes at her blunt sarcasm. I want to snap that Mac is only trying to help but I restrain myself. I figure that it won’t improve Duke’s attitude and I don’t want to hear her bitching at me later. Which will result me putting her back in her place. I purse my lips as I stare down the loser crew. Why haven’t they left yet? Usually my fellow students like to keep a safe (and wise) distance away from me. The cat one sits back on the counter and I can feel hostility emit from her. My wrath powers flare at it, hungry for another battle. To help keep myself busy I start to click my nails on the plastic. Tap……tap…..tap…...tap.  I watch as the black disaster runs her eyes up and down my form. I want to snarl at her bold stare but swallow it.

“Well? What are you waiting for, an invitation? Get out,” I tell them as I glower. My one nail taps against the plastic door impatiently. Perhaps I should make an example out of them? I peek at myself in the mirror and see the splattered blood drying on my neck and face. I resist curling my nose at it; I need to wash this shit off as soon as they leave. 

 I watch as the cat one puffs out at my words and the girl puts a hand on her knee. I feel something inside of me stir; probably my wrath side building up for another fight as the tension grows in the room. I watch as they glance at one another in silent communication, before the cat girl settles slightly.

How interesting…the girl without any powers is in charge? Why? I blink as I realize that we are staring at one another. I try to catch their eyes to deter them; the Dumptruck looks away immediately and the cat one regretfully turns away but with a snarl on her lips; but when I lock eyes with the freak, she doesn’t back down.

Normally, this is a challenge; my demon is very dominate and treats eye contact much like a wolf would. Eye contact shows dominance and a challenge, the one that is less powerful looks away in submission. I strangely just feel uncomfortable as we remain looking at one another; but I refuse to back down.

Tap…tap…tap…tap. My nails on the plastic doors increase in consistency. The girl’s eyes are a dull brown and I relax when she finally looks away but looks at my arms. Probably at the blood. Tap, tap, tap ,tap. I lean against my hands to stop my tic as it turns from irritation to nerves. I can’t show any weakness.

 “We were here first,” Get Ready Betty speaks. She’s either brave or very stupid to think she can talk to me like that. I notice as the other two share concerned glazes at one another. I focus on the girl with a narrowed gaze.

She is wearing black ankle boots that are screaming with emo rage with the spikes, a dark green dress and jean jacket show me that she doesn’t really dress to impress. It’s…modest. You think with her reputation she would wear something more revealing.

“I don’t give a shit. Now shoo kitty,” I snide. I motion my hand in a ‘shooing motion’. I smirk a little at my own joke. I watch with extreme amusement as she puffs up even more and her tail stands straights up and her eyes shine with an anger that could possible match a wrath demon. Ha, as if.

“Why should we be the ones to leave?” the stupid one asks me. I narrow my eyes into slits as my lip curls to a snarl, my white canines on display. The gull. I barley notice as the girl looks at Betty with wide eyes. So, they do know who their dealing with; they need to be smarter by controlling her freaking mouth.

“You got some nerve _pussy cat_ …,” I spit out the name, “…for that I’ll let you and you’re…” I trails off as I eye the rest of them. My gaze passes over Dumptruck and I watch as the freak subconsciously puts her hands in her outdated leather jacket and pulls it tighter around herself. She’s trying to hide in some sort of way from me. Well at least she’s smart, “…weak blooded friends leave unharmed.”

“The fuck, oh no she didn’t,” Betty growls. I tense as she jumps onto the counter and I feel my nails grow as she pounces. I restrain a growl of warning low in my throat, my wrath side excited. I wait for her momentum to bring her to me, but the girl catches her with surprisingly fast reflexes.

 She grunts as Betty elbows her in the face, “Shit. Martha help!” I lean back and cross my arms as I watch the two try to regain some sort of sense in their friend. I would never admit it, but the cat has some guts, compared to the rest of this loser school.

“Let me go! I can take her!” Betty pleads.

“No, you can’t you, dumb fuck!” the girl argues. Betty hisses and growls in response.

“Ow! Calm down Betty! Shit!” she says as I watch her get multiple scratches and good hits from her friend. I watch as her nails make new tears into the girl’s jeans. Betty struggles and squirms; her tail swishing and her claws out. The girl looks over to me and glares at me hatefully. I narrow my eyes, it’s not my fault you friend wanted a possible ass kicking. I look at her thrashing friend, maybe I should she deserves it for even thinking about attacking me. Dumptruck finally breaks from her stupidity and restrains Betty. She grabs her one arm and I sigh.

God, can today get any more boring?

I tense as Mac pops her head out of the stall. She looks over to the three stooges with an slightly open mouth and wide eyes. She turns to me with a slight frown, _What did you do?_

“What’s going on?” Mac questions.

 I raise my brow and roll my eyes at her silent question. _Wasn’t me._ She gives me a deadpan expression showing she doesn’t believe me. I huff as I look inside the stall, that’s slightly being covered by the door; I wonder if Duke is finally done. I turn back to Mac who now has a brow raised.

 “Apparently these excuses of demon’s can’t control their alley cat,” I answer. As I look back over with the freak pinning a rumbling Betty to her chest. She glowers at my sentence and I can’t help but give a tiny smile at her annoyance.

 Mac looks back over to them and covers her mouth as we both watch the cat tail swish; still big and puffed out. The sight is ridiculous. I see Mac struggling with her amused smile. It makes mine grow. Mac has always been the pillowcase; nice to even the lowest of the low. I look over to the crew and raise a brow to the freaks glower. Okay enough is enough.

 “Get the fuck out. I’ve been more than patient with you losers. I won’t ask again.” I inform them. The freak lowers her gaze to the floor as I watch her shoulders hunch with acknowledgement. I’m glad she’s taking my threat seriously. As they start to move, I see the door open in my peripheral. For fucks sakes, who is it now?

I curl my lip to roar at them to leave and pause as I see the ugly Flem. I give an angry sigh as her three eyes lock onto me, turning from bored to glee. Yeah, bitch I know you hate my ass, fuck off already.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Flemming asks rhetorically. I go to open my mouth to tell her how I feel but I feel Mac grab onto my sleeve in warning. I swallow my retort.

“Heather. Heather,” I hear Duke silence ends as her vomit makes a reappearance. She flushed the toilet and staggers out. I watch as Flemshit makes a look of disgust towards her. “…and Heather. Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell with all of the vomiting your late to class.”

Her three eyes lock onto us. I know she loves picking on the pure breeds; lesser demons are all a pain in my ass. I look over to the three in the corner; Dumptruck looks at Flem with a worried expression and Betty catches my gaze and fucking winks at me. My anger sparks…the fuck?

I turn back to Flem, why the fuck is she only looking at us? I turn to Duke as she uses the underside of her arm to wipe away any trace of vomit away. She won’t be so cruel as to get us in trouble since she heard Duke vomit?

“Heather wasn’t feeling so well. We’re helping her,” I recounter. I place my hand on my hip with a smirk.

Both of Flemming’s mouths curl into smirks and mine falls, “Not without a hall pass you aren’t. Week’s detention all of you.” The fucking bitch.

“Umm... actually Mrs. Flemming,” All of our attention turns to the freak and she walks past us holding out a hall pass; where the hell did she get that? Flem blinks as she of she just realized that there were other students in the room. “All of us are out on a hall pass…Dome committee.”

I turn to Duke as she looks at them bored, I make a mental note to ask her if they’re on the committee with her. Flem stretches out her one out of the four wrinkly arms and grabs the paper; I watch as her three eyes move in different directions as she reads the note. Well if we get fucked over at least these three go down with us.

 “I see you’re all listed,” Flem says between gritted teeth. I blink. What? I turn to Mac who seems just as surprised. She looks up and shrugs. I turn to Duke who has her eyes furrowed in confusion. Flem throws the paper back at the girl and then makes her way out as she narrows her eyes at me.

“Hurry up and get to wherever you’re going,” she spats.

I smirk, nice try Flem glob. A thought hits me as the three start to follow Flem, why did she save us…how did she save us? I notice the girl’s smirk and I frown.

She grabs Betty’s arm and sets the pass on the counter, “You’re welcome.” The door opens as she drags a less than pleased looking Betty and I hear Dumptruck as she quietly whispers to Duke. “Feel better.”

Duke frowns at her and I watch the wooden door close. What just happened? I turn around to Mac holding the note, I reach over and snatch it out of her hands, and she turns to me annoyed. I narrow my eyes in warning. She shuts her mouth to whatever she was going to say. I look down at the note. The handwriting is Mr. Boshes. But I don’t remember seeing her in my Dome class- she was already in the bathroom…then how? I widen my eyes as I stare down impressed; this is excellent forgery.

….

I was staring out of the window as the teacher drills on about the hypotenuses of triangles and the formula of how to find it. I huff bored, to entertain myself I watch as the wind outside picks up leaves and twirls them around on the black cement of the parking lot. The green leaves are hinting red and yellow, showing that fall has made her descent on earth. I look over to my red baby and sigh, wishing I could get in and drive away and never come back.

She is a Porsche 911 Turbo Cabriolet that is painted candy apple red with light brown leather seats, her top is on- hiding the expensive material from the elements. Her wheels are spray painted black giving her a dangerous edgy look and I can’t wait to rip her out of here later. I like that I can hear her purr as she accelerates to extraordinary speeds due to her powerful engine. I blink as my thoughts come to a stop and I roll my eyes at myself, great. Now, I’m starting to sound like Duke.

 _Riiiiiing._ Finally.

I stand up and leave the class, thankful that it’s lunch; the only time of school (besides the Dome training and fights) that I can actually stand. I go to my locker and start to turn it for my combination 6-15-8, and I click it open. I look inside and see the usual photos of me and the other Heather’s. The highlighted list of the Dome fights and my car keys hanging. I look over to the tiny mirror and double check that I got all the blood off, and that my makeup still looks good.

I turn my cheek to see that my foundation is still covering my freckles and my grey eye shadow and dark mascara is making my silver eyes pop. After finding no faults, I mess up my hair to make it have a little more volume; finally satisfied with my appearance. I grab my red lunch box as I shut the door. I pack every day because I can't stand the meals that they offer us; it's shitty like the rest of this school.

“Hey Heather!” I turn to see a bouncing Mac. Unlike me and Duke, Mac carries her backpack everywhere. The huge black bag on her smaller frame, makes me think of a turtle. I shake my head, when I tried to convince her that backpacks where so middle school; she tilted her head and innocently replied, “But how will I carry my books and stuff around?”

“Mac.” I nod to her and I look up from her small frame to see Duke approaching us. Mac turns to my gaze and playfully shoulder checks her when Duke stops next to her. Duke looks to her with her neutral expression, but I can see the warmth in her eyes. I look down at them and I see Duke nod to me in greeting, I sometimes forget how short these two are when I stand next to them. They make me feel huge, not in a bad way more of a like- holy shit you're short. My lip twitches in amusement as think about how much I love rubbing my height in their faces.

“Hey Duke!” Mac leans forward and whispers concerningly, “How are you feeling?”

Duke turns to her with a raised brow, “I’m just peachy.”

Mac frowns at the sarcasm. I look at Duke, and notice the slight dark bags under her eyes and I see the slight exhausted way that she's holding herself up. I guess this mornings episode took a beating out of her.  Ugh still, she doesn’t need to be a dick.

“Shut up, Heather.” I tell her. Duke turns her green gaze on me irritated, before looking away from my glower. Duke is the one of the very few people that dares to give me sass and her opinion, I respect her for it as much as I find it annoying.

“Sorry, Heather,” she says towards Mac and I nod in approval. I start walking with the two following. I listen as they talk and I keep my chin high as I make sure everything is in order. People leave us room in the narrowed halls, girls look away in fear or envy, guys looking at us with want; different groups showing different emotions. Nerds drooling, Jocks pining, Losers envying. I don’t care if they love or hate us, as long as they fear me; I know then, I have nothing to worry about. I own them. 

“Duke where's your lunch?” Mac questions as she looks Duke up and down, as if a lunch box will materialize in her hands. Sadly, Mac only finds the usual reading material shoved under her armpit.

 Duke scoffs, “No offense Heather, but after this morning I don’t want to risk anything.” Duke rolls her eyes, but I notice the slight way her hand grazes over her stomach as in thought.

“…But you should still eat something…. even if it’s only a little.” Mac pleads as she tries to get her begging big blue-eyed expression under Duke’s gaze, much like a puppy begging for a treat.

A sigh, “Mac, leave this alone.” I turn to Mac’s worried gaze and I watch her bite her lip. This is a constant argument between them. I stay out of it, no longer want to get dragged in it at school. I don’t think that Duke appreciates the attention and she has different feelings about her situation then we do. I think that Duke should figure it out on her own.

“Fine. I won’t stay anything else today,” Mac complies with a pout seeing she is getting no help from me.

A relieved huff, “Fine.” Duke looks away as Mac throws her an pained expression.

I know this is a blessing, Mac usually pesters Duke a lot of more which results in them being tense and passive aggressive the rest of the day, which is a pain in the ass for me. I don’t need another thing to keep my wrath demon under wraps with. I look up to see a crowd forming, and I furrow my brows.

“What’s going on?” Mac asks as she hurries up to walk next to me. Duke quickly catching up to my longer strides as well.

“I’m not sure but we’re going to find out.” I quicken my pace, thankful for my height as I can see the fight brewing faster.

I realize that it’s the three nobodies from the bathroom and Jacob Mathews. My wrath growls at the sight of him. I strongly dislike any of the country kids, they have been nothing but a pain in my ass. Just roaches trying to crawl their way up to my level. I watch as the freak from the bathroom stands nose to nose; Mathew wearing nothing but an amused smirk and the girl wearing rage. I pause, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on her before. Well, that doesn't say much considering I really only noticed her today, but she seems like the, I-don't-give-any-fucks-type.

“I wonder what gives you the right to pick on my friend? You’re a high school has been-a future gas station attendant,” the girl raved. I smile at the girl’s sass and I can’t help but find her amusing. I look at Matthews as his jaw tightens in anger at the girl’s statement. Hard to win a verbal debate against someone who is ten times smarter than you.

However, I find myself narrowing my eyes as he smirks in a cruel smile as he says something to her, we are to far away even my enhanced hearing can’t pick it up.

Then I tense and I barley hold back a roar as I hear the girl’s body slam against the lockers with an awful bang. Before I know what’s happening, I lock my gaze onto Mathews. Wrath makes my vision go into tunnel mode as I stalk forward; not caring who I push out of the way. I feel as I loose myself as I see her frighten face as she looks at Mathews flames. A fury unleashes my demon; my horns grow, my height and muscles nearly double in size. My teeth and nails grow to dangerous daggers, I feel my eyes flicker and I feel my shoulders tense to steel as I try to not lose control. I haven't felt my demon loose control this fast in a long time. I barely hold myself from transforming the entire way- careful to keep the one thing in my form a secret. The one thing that could make or break me in a fight. I look to Mathews as he wears a disgusting smirk, I can't wait to rip it off. No- I tell myself....stay in control...not here...but later I'll rip him to pieces.

“Fuck off Mathews! That loser is _mine_!” I snarl as I step forward.


	3. Chapter 3 The Troubles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all who left kudos and comments I appreciate every single one of you! Hope you like the new chapter

**Duke POV**

I walk tiredly behind a storming Chandler, with a confused Mac bouncing after her, “Heather! Heather! Wait! Geeze slow down!”

I can feel the bags under my eyes and the slight heaviness in my form that comes after every episode. My stomach clenches in need and I bit my lip hard to focus on the different pain.

Unsurprisingly Heather doesn’t and lets out an aggressive snarl as a pair of students (who had the misfortune to not being paying attention) as they shoulder checked her. They drop they’re books with wide eyes full of fear and shock. I find myself slightly amused at the scene. Heather in this form is like an angry (sometimes horny) bull, but when her full demon shows she’s almost indestructible. I walk past them with my nose turned up in disgust as they go hands and knee to pick up their scattered materials.

I watch as Mac puts her hand on Heather’s arm, “Wait!” She yells again and tugs causing Chandler to halt. I watch as Mac collides with Heather due to her abrupt stop, Mac quickly backtracks. Chandler takes heavy labored breaths as if she just ran a race. I raise my brow in question at the odd behavior. Even after the most brutal battle, Chandler doesn’t ever break a sweat, only bones. Mac rounds Chandler’s towering frame as she looks almost straight up, it’s quite a show watching the petite five foot even try to calm an over six-foot demon.

 **“What do you want, Mac?”** Heather growls, the students around us wisely run away as her demonic voice tears through the halls. Nervous glances hit us as they go with their metaphorical (and not) tails stuck in between their legs. The small girl puts her hands on her hips and looks up with a scowl. Mac has always never really held any fear towards Chandler like the rest of us have. I am unsure if it’s because she is also an offspring of a greater demon or because she’s has no will to live. Mac has always had a reckoning for self-punishment. I remain a safe distance back and lean against the lockers, watching.

“Don’t talk to me in that voice,” Mac says sternly. Chandler’s eyes glow a brighter shade of red and I feel myself start to get nervous. Be careful Mac, don’t piss her off anymore. The demon queen leans down and pokes the tiny blonde on the chest.

“I can talk to anyone, however I want, whenever I want,” Mac stumbles back with the force of Chandler’s pokes and I step forward. I walk towards them cautiously. Shit, I hope they seriously aren’t about to get into it now. I look between the two, even as gentle as Mac is, I know she can hold her own against Heather, but I also know how Chandler can get when she’s not in full control.

Sometimes that’s why I think she let me become apart of her and Mac’s group- because I can help her when she can’t control herself. I’m her last resort- you can say. I frown as I think about it, I also think that’s way she kept me in her group because I maybe one of the very few people in this school that’s an actual threat to her. Keep your enemies closer and all that shit.

Mac looks up at Chandler with a wide blues before she narrows her eyes in an angry frown. She crunches her lips together disapprovingly and Chandler looks down at her with an uncaring expression. Mac steps forward and I feel the twinge in my gut as Heather’s wrath grows. I feel myself start to tense as the hunger starts to hit me again, I close my eyes and take deep painful breaths. I try to get myself to relax as I ignore the constant pit that’s my stomach, I relean against the lockers- thankful for the cool surface as I watch the two. Mac crawls towards Chandler, like she would be going up to an injured wolf stuck in a bear trap, she slowly reaches her hand out and grasp her hand. Chandler tenses and I see as Mac looks up to her concerningly.

“You can…but you shouldn’t,” she looks over to me and then back to the hulking girl. Causing the red stare to be aimed at me for a microsecond, “we’re your friends C. You don’t have to hide behind the wrath with us, remember? What happened back there?”

Mac tilts her head looking pleadingly at a bewildered Heather. Chandler’s actions with the fight made no sense, but I know better than to ask.  I internally scoff, please as if Heather would open herself up to us. You would have better luck getting me to be full for once in my life. Heather growls and pulls her hand out of Mac’s gentle hold. She narrows her eyes and takes a threatening step forward.

“I am not hiding,” she growls. Mac purse her lips and frowns deeply and I see that her arms are shaking by her sides.

“Are you kidding me?! First, you are all tense after the bathroom incident and complained about how we owe those losers in the bathroom right after they left. Then you act totally cool and nothing happened and next thing I know- we’re stopping the country kid from beating up the freak without any powers!” Mac throws her hands up in the air in exasperation. She puts them down slows and her voice cracks as she asks again, “What’s going on?”

 Chandler’s eyes are wide as a tense silence over takes the hall. I wait for the answer, curious as to what it'll be.

“Leave it alone, Heather.” Chandler warns with a quiet growl. She looks away from Mac and I can tell from the tense form of Chandler’s shoulders that whatever it is, is bothering her. Mac looks to her with nothing but disappointment and a deep pain in her eyes. She looks her up and down, offers a small sad smile and shakes her head.

“Of course, you aren’t going to answer,” I barely hear her mumble. She takes a small step backwards and grabs onto her backpack straps, she looks to me, but I feel like she’s seeing through me.

She blinks rapidly and offers me the same sad smile. I feel a pang of pity and anger towards Chandler, Mac always tries to get me and her to open up, but we never do. I think she’s starting to give up and I feel the weight of her sad puppy eyes on me.  She turns towards Chandler.

“We’re going to be late to class,” she says sullenly. Mac turns head bent lower than normal as she walks away; not waiting for us like she would normally. I turn so my back rests along the black metal doors, and I cross my arms as I stare towards the culprit. She stares at Mac’s retreating form and finally catches my eyes. I narrow them towards her.

“What?” She snaps. She crosses her arms as she curls her one side of her lip. I roll my eyes at her mock display.

I look back towards the direction Mac disappeared, the hall empty, the dirty gray tiles with the occasional black scruff mark, the lockers lining the walls painted black- a few of them dented and decorated, the dull lights with the occasional flicker. The digital clock hanging on the ceiling showing the bright red numbers till our freedom. The hall is empty, sullen and ominous. I turn to Heather; tension palpable as I scan her form.

Her 'true' demon is a sight to behold, her already imposing height doubled and the cream horns crowning the self-proclaimed queen, her nails painted black sharp and ready to tear whoever stands in her way down- whether it be friend or foe, her ears pointed and canine longer than normal. I realize that she restricted herself so her red dragon scales didn’t erupt from her skin…I guess she didn’t feel like she needed to wear her indestructible armor. Her normally silver irises glow blood red- standing out even more with the black makeup around her eyes. This form is the epitome of danger and this form is not the one that bothers me.

I shake my head as my answer, knowing anything I say will be retributed. She narrows her eyes and storms towards me, and I want to cover my nose from the taunting smell of her. I don’t know if my body wants to vomit or drool at the sheer amount of power radiating from Chandler. I steel myself as she nears, and I look up to her face.

“No say it.”

I know it’s a threat, but I can’t. I won’t; I’m so tired of being shut down and letting her push me around. So, I keep my mouth shut as I stare frustratingly down at my shoes. Chandler’s eyes narrow as she waits for me, but I remain in silence. The silence is tense and thick with unsaid things and emotions. She finally turns her attention away from me as she transforms herself back to “normal.” I watch as she shrinks-her bones giving off sickening cracks and her muscles swiveling under her skin as they degenerate back into this form, her horns sink back into her skull leaving bloody circles on her temples. She sighs as her body settles and I can’t help but find myself resentful.

She looks so human.

This form carries the natural genetics of the most desired beauty. Porcelain skin that have no faults, striking red hair that shines copper is some cases of light, unnatural silver orbs that demand attention and a model height with a strong lean form. It’s not her beauty that I necessarily dislike, it’s because unlike me she’s still dangerous and has complete control. In either form she radiates power that shows that she’s the Apex Predator; I hate it. The temptations of her- drawls me like a moth to a flame.

“Doesn’t Heather have practice today?” she asks me.

I snap out of my thoughts and shrug. I place my arms crossed over my stomach- I stiffen as another stomach pain hits me, a wave of nausea at my unfulfilled demands. I ignore it like I always do, just another day being me.

“I don’t know. I’m not her keeper,” I retort. Chandler turns to me with a glare.

“Shut up, Heather.” I resist to make a face at her. There’s that damn phrase. I hate the demoting sentence as if I’m some pet that needs to be reprimanded by their master. I growl internally, as anger over shadows the hunger if only for a millisecond.

“Sorry, Heather.” I snarl my eyes flashing a green. A ping of my powers flare and the hunger grows. I’m so fucking hungry. I look over to Chandler who seems to be just as surprised that my powers decided to make an appearance…well I would be, if I wasn’t using all of my will to not attack her. I start to shake as I fight myself and I feel my nails grow as my dark skin takes a sickly green-grey. The flesh tightens painfully tight like the worse anorexia victim.

I smell something so tauntingly good, my mouth waters with want- no with need. Much like a zombie in a horror movie, my head snaps up and I can only focus on Heather. I watch as the red smoke escapes her body- the smell begging me- calling me. I fight with myself. I leave metal scratches into the lockers as I try to stop myself, but I take a step forward. Any normal person would take a fearful step away.

However, Chandler isn’t anything normal; she won’t show anything as trivial as fear. She looks to me with a high head and unnerving cold eyes. No, I scream at myself. I already let this cunt control me, I can control this. I must look like a psychotic bitch as I slam myself against the lockers and hold my head as I try to get my power under wraps. I try to take deep calming breaths, but her damn scent isn’t making this easy. I feel as my skin relaxes back to live looking fresh.

Finally, sweaty, and shaky I manage to get my power locked somewhere inside and the hunger pains dull from an all-consuming need to dull throb of pain. I rest my head against my locker- thank god. I look down to see the brown leather boots of Heather and I tilt up my head to her and all her glory. The normal ceiling lights creating a halo (ha that’s a joke) around her fiery locks. She has her hands on her hips, looking down with an indescribable look.

“Glad you got your shit together Heather,” she looks around to see if anyone was left for me to embarrass her. I find myself guiltily and hatefully-that someone did. I don’t need anyone to spread more shit about me. Unlike Chandler, I don’t live for the attention. I just want to put my head down and push through this hell hole.

 “Why are you still on the floor? Get up,” Chandler barks. I glance up from my sweaty bangs with a less pleased expression. Are you kidding me? With a growl I push against the lockers, my legs shaking, and I manage to get myself in an upright impression. She looks at my struggle and leans forward and grabs my braid. She purses her lip as she inspects it, with a sigh she drops it and turns to me.

“You’re going to need to redo it, it looks like shit,” she comments.

If I had the energy, I would’ve rolled my eyes, “Gee thanks. I will get right on that.” She narrows her eyes but then pauses. After a long pause she shakes her head, seemingly ignoring the usual tongue lashing I would usually get in public.

 “Come one, we’re going to stay after today and drive Mac home.” I watch as she turns to leave, her slight heel clicking against the tiles, leaving me a tired mess. I sigh as my body slides against the lockers and I just let myself lay there. I close my eyes and just let myself have a moment. My brain has a slight throb and light feeling of dizziness from exhaustion and from me not eating. I just sit there as the coolness of the lockers and floor bring a striking contrast against my moist skin, the ticking of the old lock is a nice noise for me to focus on.

My tongue feels heavy and dry as my demon growls at me for ignoring our meal, I sigh as my stomach twists in punishment.

Chandler might be a bitch, but she has done a lot for me, I remind myself as I look at my shoes. The girl has a complicated past, same as me. She and I have that in common. Heather practically rescued me from nothing and gave me a place where I could hide and feel safe.

Yes, it has its down side of her practically ruling over me and being Heather number two. Second best. Called her pet even. God, I hate that rumor. The flashes of demons that kidnap humans and keep them in chains and pretty leashes to flash around as prizes float in my head. I sigh, I’m no one’s pet.

“Heather!” I hear her call and I groan as I push myself up. Yeah, I tell myself, you’re not her pet.

….

**Mac POV**

I turn the corner of the hallway, as I leave behind Heather and Heather. I tighten my grip onto my black backpack straps as I lazily carry myself to my next class.

Why can’t Heather, open herself up to me-us? I mean it’s not like we all haven’t been friends for years. I scoff as I think of all the bullshit we’ve been through, me and Heather’s relationship, meeting Duke, her grandmother, the bullying, then the Domes, Heather’s father, and the fucking high school bullshit. You’d think with all our history that Heather (well both of them) would finally open up, but nooooo. I just get the snarling devil persona like as if I’m just some other fucking person.

Anger blooms in me, as if they don’t think I can see right through them. I go to open the wooden door of my next class to only be met with a locked handle. I furrow my brows as my thoughts turn into confusion. I try again only to be meet again by a locked door. What the…I look up though the tiny window to see into a dark room. I smush my face to the glass, dark room filled with empty desks. Wha? I turn to the room number just to make sure, no this is the right room then? I look at the clock on the ceiling. Oh fuck, it’s lunch right now.

I roll my eyes at myself as I make my way angrily to the cafeteria as I seethe, stupid Heather! God, why am I like this? You forgot lunch? Geeze, you make your hair so proud. My blonde curled locks swish behind me in a high ponytail in mocking.

I open the doors to the cafeteria, it’s bustling with students; some getting food, catching up with friends and teachers pretending to watch the students as they gossip within themselves. All the conversations bounce against the walls, and the smell of crappy school food swirl around the room.

I slowly make my way through the crowd as I go to the area that Heather claimed since ninth grade. As I walk into the center of the room, there spotted in it’s lonesome, is my table. It’s a regular table just like the dozens of others surrounding it, but unlike it’s filled counter parts this one is empty and pitiful. I frown as I take my seat. The other parts of the bench remain lonely as the other two usual attendees are missing. I keep my eyes down as my loneliness is apparel. I open up my nike bag and pull out my paper bag lunch. I sigh as I pull out an apple, bag of salt and vinegar chips, two sandwiches, a yogurt tube and a fruit smoothie with a small water bottle in tow. I grab my sandwich and sigh as I start to eat. Hopefully me focusing on my meal will distract me from the fact that I’m eating by myself.

As I am about to start my second sandwich, I feel the weight of two people sit down and I look up with my mouth full with an unpleased glare; thanks for leaving me alone for so long. Only to be meet with a blinding red and cream colors of Leatherman jackets. They’re not Heather or Heather.

I blink as I look up into the two faces of Kurt and Ram. They give me smiles of those like toddlers that stole something from the cookie jar and didn’t get caught. Kurt Kelly is a built like a bull, broad thick shoulders, easily 250 pounds of muscle and little fat, he his not ugly but not pretty either, nose slightly crooked from being broken several times, longer styled dark brown hair, with hints of stubble. Kurt Kelly is the prettier of the two with dirty blonde hair jelled back. He is a thinner build but just as muscular, his natural sun kissed anyone to be jealous over. However, my favorite feature of him is the mask of light freckles spread across his nose and cheeks; giving him an innocent look. Both of them with their huge bat-like wings folded out across their backs, causing them to take up the whole bench.

“Hey Heather. Where’s the other two hotties?” As I narrow my gaze, Ram receives an elbow as Kurt shoots him an glare as he turns to me.

“So why are you sitting by yourself?” Kurt questions politer.

“Hey, guys.” I offer a friendly smile. I watch as he takes his bread from his meal and dunks it into the pseudo gravy and shoves it into his mouth. I look at them and see as my powers flare, ugh god please not now. I carefully keep the panic from my face as I smell and see the anxiety and fear emit from Kurt. I watch as his fear of his dad takes over. His father is a drunk and yelling at him as he cowards away. I watch as Kurt shrinks in front of me into a crying preschooler, marks of his father evident on his skin. I blink rapidly and turn to Ram; only to be enveloped with the thoughts of him. He is stuck in a field of darkness as he looks around in panic, I watch as faceless figures leave him. Fear of being alone and left. My stomach drops as my blood runs cold. I shut my eyes tight and I shake my head. My breathing turns stuttering as my stomach clenches, no stop it! I don’t want this! I feel myself trickle out of their minds and I sigh in relief.

Kurt and Ram oblivious of my struggle; as they scarf down their food. I feel a pang of pity hit me of these two; both proceed to be tough party boy jocks, in reality one deals with an abusive father and the other struggles with the ideals of loneliness. My heart clenches. Perhaps, this is why I am the only one in this school that treats them with kindness. I shrug my shoulders in response to Kurt’s question.

“I think Heather had to fix her makeup.” I don’t clarify which one. Ram nods his head in acknowledgement. He opens his mouth as he talks around the food. I scrunch my nose at the sight; disgusting.

“What are we doing at practice?” I pause thing of what drills that we are going to partake after school. Crap, I forgot to talk to coach about the list of practice routines I’m supposed to get from her. I bit my lip as I think of the drills, we partook last year.

“I think I’m going to do a scrimmage game to see where everyone’s at this year. I need to see where to place people based off of their skill set.”

Kurt and Ram brighten up at this and they fist pump, “Oh yeah! Punch it in!” Ram turns to me and I try to not look at the food dribbled across his chin, “I can’t wait to slam some freshmen into the ground!”

Kurt hits him playfully, “Damn it, Ram. We’re seniors! We can’t be doing that shit,” he looks at me with pleading eyes, “I mean unless our head captain says that we can.” They both turn to me with cute puppy dog eyes. I roll my eyes at their foolishness as I giggle at them.

“I guess,” They brighten up, “but only at the end. I need to see who can take hits, but don’t break them please. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” I warn. They frown but pick up their smiles in promise of getting to tackle some people.

“Oh yeah, our Skyball team is going to be awesome this year!” Ram says and Kurt smirks at me, “I mean with a head captain this hot all the other teams are going to be jealous.” He winks and I smile at the compliment. I eat and offer comments every now and then as Ram and Kurt talk about random stuff.

“Hey, are you going to need a ride home, after practice?” Ram asks me. I pause, I mean it would be nice…but the weather is supposed to be good. I could just get home by myself.

“Actually, I was-” I start.

A red figure sits down to my left and a less than pleased Heather finishes my sentence, “You will not need to. I was going to drive Mac home today.” 

I pause as I look to Heather’s sudden appearance in surprise. I smile in hello but frown quickly. Right, I’m upset with her. I turn to my right as Duke sits down, glaring at Ram and Kurt. Her displeasure in the two is not hidden. I watch as Kurt and Ram smile at my friend’s appearance.

I blink dumbly at Heather, “You are?”

She looks at me with narrowed eyes, daring me to say something. “Yes, I am.”

She turns to her lunch box and pulls out a container of strawberry salad. Why does she dictate what I do? I mean I don’t want to make her mad, but I was hoping to fly home today. I mean after why would she want to give me a ride? She’d have to wait till after practice.

“No, it’s fine Heather. I was planning to fly home anyways. I mean I haven’t done that in a while.” I shrug and I look away. Kurt and Ram now finished with their food. I watch as Ram leans across the table and he winks at Duke. I watch as Duke frowns and narrows, her eyes. I look at the empty area around her.

“Duke,” she pauses in whatever tongue lashing she was about to deliver Ram. “Where’s your food?” She turns to me with a raised brow, irritation evident on her face.

“I already told you I’m not going to eat. I’m not hungry.” I narrow my eyes at the lie; she’s always hungry. I pick up my red apple at hand it to her, she looks at it in my hand with slight distaste.

“At least eat this.” Duke curls her nose and looks at me angrily.

“Are you serious? What part of no don’t you get? I thought you weren't going to say anything else today.”

“You need to eat something!” I insist. I bob my hand to offer it once more.

“No.”

I groan. “Why are you so stubborn? Please?”

“No.”

“Why not!”

“I don’t-”

“Just eat the damn apple Heather!” We both jump and turn to see Heather glaring at us as her hand around her fork turns white. I slowly start to lower my hand, not wanting to irate her anymore. Duke and Heather stare at one another with angry glares until Duke snarls with submission as she forcefully grabs the fruit out of my hand and takes an dramatic loud crunch.

Juice streaks down her chin as she glares at Chandler, then at me, “Happy now?”

“I mean if you want to eat something else, I might have something filled for protein for you,” Ram offers and all three of us turn with them with glares. I scrunch up my nose, gross. I glance at Duke and if looks could kill; we’d have two dead bodies at our table.

“Don’t you two have somewhere better to be? I think the nerds where talking shit on Skyball earlier.” Heather points in an random gesture towards the back of the cafeteria. Ram and Kurt looked at each other in surprise then anger as they stand up so fast that the table moves, and they make their way towards the math geeks at the back right of the room. I hope they don’t get in trouble; I need them on the team, not detention. I turn to Heather who now is frowning and looking down at me. Her right-hand drums on the table.

“Since you’re so adamant on flying home today, you can at least throw all your shit in my car and I’ll meet you at your house.” I furrow my eyes, why would she do that? I go to open my mouth and receive a hard poke. I yelp and spin to see a grumpy Duke with a half-eaten apple.

“Just say yes, Jesus.” She turns and takes another bite as she puts her one cheek in her hand as she looks out onto the crowd. I turn back to Heather and watch as she takes a bite of her salad. Her posture tense and back ridge rod straight. I puzzle over the fact why would she do this? There’s no reason for her too…unless she feels like she needs to? But why would she.... I smirk at her as it clicks. Wow, Heather feel guilty much? I warm bubbly sensation hits me as I realize this is her form of an apology for snapping at me earlier. I smile warmly as I playfully shoulder check her. She pauses her meal and turns to me with a raised brow.

“Thank you,” I tell her warmly. She looks down at me and I see as her silver eyes soften for just a moment as she turns away. As she stabs her salad once more.

“Don’t be a pillowcase,” she mumbles.

 


	4. Chapter 4 Spray Painted Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added some stuff in this chapter

**Veronica POV**

I lean against the back of the fence hidden by the big metal blenchers. The sun is shining, and the graying clouds move lazily across the sky. I chew on the cigarette on my mouth, I haven’t light it, even though I’m itching too. I promised Martha I would try to quit. The habit of doing it is kicking my ass, but damn me if I won’t go down swinging. I sneer as a small breeze makes the marks across my skin burn. Damn Heather and her damn claws. I move my hand to feel the slight rise of the skin, why the fuck did she have to mark me. Some weird pure-blood ass shit? I sigh as I put my hands in my pockets as I look out onto the Skyball field.

I hear laughter and the swooshing of strong wings as they maneuver across the sky. I make myself comfortable against the rusting chained fence as I watch the team play a fake match. The poor freshmen and new people wearing yellow try to keep up with the seasoned players, who are wearing blood red as they compete against each other. Saying that the new players are getting crushed would be an understatement. I shake my head as a boy clumsily kicks the ball and focuses hard on keeping it on his person to notice the zooming giants. I watch as the kid gets slams into the ground and Kurt and Ram high-five as an angry whistle blows. The boy dizzily stands with the help of two other people, the one girl asks him concerningly if he’s okay.

“Kurt! Ram!” I turn my attention to a pissed looking Heather as she flaps her wings and sets herself onto the field. The usual ‘gentle’ Heather turned into a quick to pissed beast. Chandler’s domain might be the Dome and school, but out here? Is Heather McNamara’s bitch. She crosses her arms over her practice jersey, her tight black leggings dragging the attention of the two jocks instead of her expression.

She rips off her protective mask, blonde curls tumble around her sweaty forehead as she growls at them, “What the hell was that?!”

Kurt and Ram dumbly blink before they laugh, “Obviously a great tackle!” “Yeah man, that freshman had no idea what was coming!”

 They fist bump as I watch Heather turns a shade of red and she steps forward and grabs the two and pulls them in. I watch in extreme amusement as the two boys’ smiles turn into gulping-wide-eyed fear.

Heather speaks between gritted teeth, “Well lay off of them. If you keep going in and taking them out like that, I’ll demonstrate tackling drills on you myself. We need new members don’t forget that.”

She pushes them away and goes over to the poor kid. I watch as Ram turns to Kurt, “Is it wrong I’m turned on and scared?”

I shake my head in silent laughter as I watch them continue. I feel myself grow heavy with the ideal that I could never join. Betty has tried to get me to try out for the mole postion, but I think it’s too risky. So instead of playing I watch from the shadows, watching and inserting myself into the plays. I find myself more often then not fixing the players and telling them what to do instead. It’s frustrating as it is relieving. I am not sure when I became obsessed with the sport but it’s better than me doing drugs I figured.

I watch as Heather kicks the ball with practiced eased between her small legs, she goats the two freshman and they try to make passes with her, but she kicks the ball high and elbows the one freshman and ducks under the other. She catches the ball with her head and then dribbles it as she pushes her wings down hard as she side sweeps and kicks it through the goal. The red wearing members cheer as she nods modesty in thanks. The goalie shakes her head in frustration. Heather turns and shows her how to block the pass and then pats the now determined girl on the back as she flies over back to the center to try again. I have to give it to Heather, she’s a pretty good player.

The rules of Skyball are easy once you have it down. The team consists of ten flyers and four grounders. Four of the fliers are the offensive- two for each side. We call offense the eagles. Their job is to use each other to get the ball into the goals past the goalies. The other four for defense. They’re the bloodhounds, out for blood and free to tackle and take out any opponent for the eagles to get their prey. The rules for attacking are no fighting to draw blood, just a free tackle for ten feet and ground bashing is not allowed. No weapons. The two left over are for the goalies. The gate keepers- they must protect the six goals ranging in different colors and sizes. They can use their powers that they possess but not on any opponents-ball only. The rules are like human soccer, the only people that can touch the ball with their hands is the goalies and the moles (the ones on the ground). The moles get the ball from when the fliers drop it, typically anyone can play this position, they are allowed to use powers to get the ball back to their flying teammates or to try to score a goal from the ground spot. They are not allowed to attack anyone but other moles and have the rules for the Dome. They are the only postion that is allowed to use their powers on one another within reason. (Usually the judges call). There is three innings and fouls are punished by two-minute player withholds or they are allowed the player with the orange armband to use their powers on other players and ball alike.

I watch until the practice ends. The team this year doesn’t seem to be that bad and it gives me hope of us going to the championships this year. As I go to leave, I freeze as the bleachers above me give the audible clang as someone walks down the metal steps. I wait until I see the red mass and black braid of the other two Heathers. My gaze narrows as I see them. Chandler lip curls in disgust as a sweaty freshman attempts to approach her and Duke ignores him completely. What a couple of bitches, he’s only trying to say hi…or not. As I catch him look at her ass as she makes her way onto the field at McNamara. Chandler puts her hand on her hip in an impatient manner as she waits for McNamara to be done talking with some of the team members.

Her face picks up as she flutters to them, “Hey guys! Thanks for waiting!”

Chandler sticks her nose out as a pair of sweaty players walk by them, her expensive leather and flowy top stand out like a sore thumb against the dirty field.  She looks at the other team members like if she saw a hair in her fancy ass salad, she brings every lunch.

“Let’s motor,” she commands.

Her majesty can’t even ask her friend if she had a good practice? Typical, I think as I snort to myself.

I hate to admit it but I kinda wish I had her confidence. I mean I’m confident to a point, I chew on the stick, but not to were I don’t care about others. She doesn’t really care about what others think and can stand up to anyone, scratch that, she is so confident that she doesn’t give any fucks about what other people think that she knows she’s better than everyone. The Heathers are solid Teflon, never bothered or harassed, always floated above it all. I would give anything to be like that.

Mac nods and flies over to where the piles of thrown bags lay. She bends down to shove her stuff in her bags and then carries them to Heather. She smiles and hands them to her.

“Thanks so much for doing this! I haven’t flown home in forever!” My heart twinges in a sad envy. She gives a quick hug to both of them before she looks up and takes off in a swoosh with a wide smile. She laughs and a bunch of people whoop as they join her in the air to laugh and do loops around her. She laughs at she ducks and twirls below the grabbing hands of Kurt and Ram. She salutes them and takes off. My heart twitches as her smile is dazzling as she flies to fly. I know the feeling well.

I sigh, well I better go. I throw the unlit cigarette down and stomp on it out of habit. I look back as the two left over both watch until her form becomes a speck in the sky.

Chandler starts to walk away, bags forgotten, “Come on Heather. Don’t forget the bags.”

Duke glares at the back of Chandler’s head before she angrily turns to look down at the messy, dirty bags. With her nose scrunched up in distaste and anger she picks them up and follows the retreating form.

….

I close the white door as I kick off my boots, not wanting to get dirt all over Martha’s house. I take off my jacket and hand it off to the usual butler that greets me.

“Hey Alfred,” I smile kindly to him, “Thank you.” He grabs my jacket and leans it neatly over his arm.

“Oh, it’s no trouble Miss Sawyer. How was your walk this evening?” He asks me.

I shrug, “It was alright. Nothing to complain about.” I look around at the large building trying to figure out which room my friends are hiding in.

“I believe Miss Finn and Mistress Martha is hiding in the entertainment common if you are looking for them,” he answers my unasked questioned. I look back to the older man and nod my thanks.

I walk past the usual relic paintings and the fancy decorations. I smile as I pass the hundreds of pictures of Martha and Betty and I as we grow up through out the years. The one picture of Martha’s 12th birthday with her getting the pink unicorn sweatshirt that Betty and I collaborated on as Martha squeals as Betty and I hug her makes me smile. I round the staircase as I make my way up it. As I near the top, I catch Mrs. Dunnstock as she is struggling to put on an earring.

“Veronica dear, could you?” I nod and she places the large diamond earing into my hand as she turns and grabs her brown locks to the side. I have to lean up on my tippy toes to reach her to gently place the jewel in her hole.

“Got it.” She turns and smiles at me motherly as she fixes her hair. I look down to see that Martha’s mom is wearing a modest black dress as she slowly removes the lint that I fail to see. She turns up to me and smiles.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I take it you are here for movie night?” She asks me kindly as her warm unique purple eyes look up to me.

“Yes ma’am.”

She swats me and I giggle as she pretends to be annoyed, “I thought I told you to call me Bel. Ma’am, Mrs. Dunnstock and madam makes me sound so old.”

Large hands place themselves into her shoulders as Mr. Dunnstock leans down to kiss her cheek, “Well dear you are over five thousand years, some might think you are old.”

He winks at me. Bel scoffs as she leans back to look at her husband. Mr. Dunnstock is over six four feet tall with large shoulders and gold blonde hair with brown eyes. They complement each other nicely.

Taking in their both fancy appearances, “Date night?” I ask.

Mr. Dunnstock sighs, “Don’t we wish. We have an unfortunate engagement to attend to tonight.”

“Oh Levi, it won’t be that bad.” Bel consuls him.

“I know, but I don’t like how they look at you.” His eyes flash all white as he pulls her closer to him. Bel flashes me an apologetic look.

“Well honey, I’m sure that Veronica would like to join Martha and Betty. Please enjoy your night Veronica dear. If you need a ride, I’m sure our driver would love to take you home.”

I thank them as they make their way towards the exit as I continue my way to the room. Martha’s parents are honestly sweethearts and have adopted Betty and I as their own. They would do anything short of murder- on second thought they probably would kill for us. They are head over heels in love for their daughter and worship the ground she walks on. I can’t blame them though, Martha is the only kid that they were able to conceive in the thousands of years of commitment.

I turn right into the entertainment room, a large white screen that can project anything from the latest movies to the various gaming systems. Rows of video games and pool tables alike lay in the room.

“How was stalking the Skyball team?” Betty asks me as I plop on the leather couch. I frown as I slouch against the cool surface. I didn’t think I was going to get sweaty from walking from the school to Martha’s house; grateful to be off of my feet. I throw her a glare.

“It was alright.”

Betty flips thorough the magazine, it’s the newest geographical line. I look over and feel bad as her tail lays against her and her bright cat eyes scan the pages. With the earth restrictions on demons, we can’t travel around the earth- only with special permeants or if you’re lucky enough to look human. I look around realizing that we’re missing the owner of the house.

“Hey, where’s Martha?” Betty flips a page as she points to the doorway behind her. I look up towards the upper kitchen.

“Getting reinforcements for the movie.” I smile in understanding.

“Do you know what movie she picked?”

I cringe, “Princess Bride.”

She looks up in horror and she slams the magazine against her face as she laughs and groans, “Noooooo.” I offer a tiny smile in understanding.

Martha pops into the room with a giant bowl full of jiffy pop. She gently sets the bowl down and sits in the space between us.

“Was Ram there?” Martha asks excitedly. Betty and I share a less than thrilled look. I put on a sugar sweet grin aka someone put salt in my coffee instead of sugar.

“Yeah, Martha he was there,” I deadpan.

“Oh! How’d he do? I’m sure he did amazingly!” She sighs and looks off in the distance dreamily. Betty pretends to fake vomit over her shoulder, and I can’t help but agree. You mean Ram being an ass and taking down any freshman in sight, then when he was supposed to do actual practice just sat on his ass? Yeah, he did amazing.

Betty jumps and leans over Martha’s shoulder and looks to us excitedly, “Hey once you guys are done drooling over your loves; can we talk about what we’re going to perform at the Hellhole?”

Oh, right I completely forgot about that. Betty recently decided that as all of us are somewhat musically gifted, we need to start a small band.  After many months of begging and complaining and tears, we finally reluctantly agreed.

Martha turns her head to look at Betty, “When do we need to preform?” I feel myself become sympathy for Martha, playing is always the hardest for her for her stage fright. I gently kick her in the knee to gain her attention.

“You know you don’t have to play with us Marth.” She offers me a kind smile in thanks. Betty slouches on her.

“We’re supposed to play in the next month, but Veronica is right Martha. If it gets too much for you, you don’t have to play,” Betty nudges her head gently against Martha’s jaw.

Martha shrugs, “I know but I can’t have Betty stealing all the spotlight it would get to her ego.” We pause as my eyes go wide with disbelief. As I chortle, Betty stands on her knees and squeals, “What do you mean me steal the spotlight!?”

…..

I wince as the door squeaks as I shut it, and I look up at my parents’ window to see if they turned on their bedside lamp to investigate the noise and I hold my breath waiting after a few moments of nothing.

As typical Martha’s driver dropped Betty and I around our homes at 8:45 pm. My parents stayed up to make sure I got home safely as always. I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip as it creaks the rest of the way shut. I finally relax when I hear the click of the latch. I really need to oil the door hinges, I remind myself for the millionth time.

I smile with giddiness as I run over to my fence and jump over it with practiced ease. I look back to double check that no one has noticed my absence from the house, after looking at the remaining black windows, I jog my way into the woods.

The moon is a silver in the sky, offering little light; but I’ve navigated these woods behind my house ever since I was little, ready to escape and find a place where I can embrace my hidden side. I feel my back twitch with the readiness to stretch and be free. Almost there, I tell myself. I hear my boots make light crunches on old leaves and small twigs. The breeze has a hint of cold as the warm summer air accepts falls entrance. The trees stand as silent guards over the barley-there dirt path my footsteps have engraved into the forest floor. Off in the distance, I hear an owl hoot.

I slow down my jog as I stop in front of a giant old oak tree. I reach up and pull myself onto the thick branch and I jump onto the second one. I crawl up to see a hole in the tree; a perfect hiding spot. I reach in and pull out a black jean jacket out of a plastic bag. There are strategic holes teared into the back and the sleeves ripped off. I then take out the white spray paint and shake it, the ball inside clanks along the sides and I frown. Dang almost out. I need to buy more.

I strip off my shirt and shiver as the breeze hits along my back and I relax as I carefully unfold my wings. My back grows warm as the tattoos of angel wings magically transform from tribal markings to black feathered flesh. I smile as I stretch them out and lift my hands above my head, enjoy my wings being free. It’s like taking off a bra after a long day or stretching after waking up after a good nap.

I look at them in pride, my wings are double the size of my body with a twelve-foot span. So big if I don’t carry them up, they’ll drag on the ground. Even by normal angel standards their big, but they're strong and mine. I love the feel of them being out and the wind blowing through the black feathers, especially when I fly.

Flying is the one thing in this world that doesn’t suck; when I don’t have to worry about anything. Just me and the open sky. I take the can and shake it as I begin the careful covering of my wings with white paint and I barley have to think about it now. I smile as I finish covering my wings in white, I give them a good shake as to get rid of any runny and excess paint flakes. I double check to make sure that every area is covered, and I put on my jacket, my wings fit perfectly in the slits. With a quick squat as a warm up. I put my cans and clothes into my hidden spot.

I look out into the woods, everything is quiet except for the owls and crickets chirp. The few fireflies illuminate the forest. I give my wings an experimental flutter and jump. I catch myself in a tight turn before I hit the ground. I feel my cheeks start to sting with cool as a faint whistling of wind hits my ears.

I feel myself start for relax as I feel the day’s events brush past me as I take careful angles and turns through the trees. My knowledge of the woods dares me to gain speed in the tree-crowded woods. I take tight turns and smile as I miss the barked poles by mere centimeters. I flap my wings to gain speed as I turn upwards into the air. I break out of the tree line and push myself hard as I gain height.

My skin wears goosebumps as condensation sticks to me once I break through the clouds, but I hardly notice it. I keep going until the ground is a shadow work of dull green and tiny lights. I stop so I hang in the air, stars and moon shining brightly at this height. I turn backwards; I relax as I start to fall, the air whooshing past me and I relax not worried as I know I’ll catch myself before I reach the ground. I close my eyes and try to wait to see how close I can get to the ground before I am threatened to be flattened. I’ve done this ever since I first became a teenager and every year I get closer and closer to the grassy bottom.

I hum as my heart rate spikes and the thrilling rush of adrenaline hits my body, I fold my wings around me...then burst open as I flip around and I laugh as my nose touches the tall grasses. I angle myself up as I catch myself from the speed and soar at an tear-jerking speed. I stop after a few miles-I take heavy breaths. My heart pounding against my chest. A bubble of joy hits me and I whoop out into the night, it echoes against the openness. I raise my arm in joy to the moon.

Here I’m free.

I flap my wings as I enjoy the view of the fields of tall blue grass and left-over flowers of nature. The moon and stars dancing over the horizon of trees. The mountains shadows in the distance, and the twinkling of lights of the smaller Ohio towns in the distance. I take a breath of this peace and fly towards my destination.

…

As I arrive towards the clearing, I slow down my descent and gently touch down onto the ground. I fold up my wings and carry them, so they do not drag. I look out onto my second home, a place where misfits of angels gather in an old Skyball field. A place almost forgotten.

I hear laughter from above and I look up to see a very lazy game of Skyball as a few angels kick the ball around. The one guy kicks the ball far and a girl squawks as she does an impressive save, they laugh as she hollers at the boy. But based off the smile on her face she isn't remotely upset.

I look over to the lighted area of the roaring fire. The wings of the angels are dark by the orange flames. I hear my boots crunch as they make contact with the sand and over-grown grass of the field. Someone has music playing in the background. I smile as I near the fire, seeing two familiar figures. I sit down next to the one, when I’m greeted.

"Well, well, well, look who the cat dragged in. Miss Winona Ryder, we weren’t expecting you this fine evening.”

I roll my eyes at the large boy and turn my head to the girl on his right. No doubt she has a sassy comment at the ready.

"Welp, that's enough for you."

The girl with natural messy waves answers, as she fights against the boy as he holds the beer bottle close to his chest. She wears a light green jean jacket with various patches and buttons on it, her hair casting down her shoulders in an ombré, with her green/grey eyes outline by a dark makeup.

"Damion! I'm serious if I don't stop you know you're going to be a bigger pain in the ass in the morning." She narrows her eyes as he evades the beer bottle from her grasp yet again.

Damion sticks his tongue out in response and says, “I'm fiiiine Janis. Don’t need to be a dick about it.”

Janis leans back on her hands and fake pouts, “Aw but you would like it if I had a dick, won’t you?”

Damion gasps, “As if. You aren’t even my type with,” he motions his hand up and down, “the whole depressed artist thing going on.”

I smile and shake my head at their obvious teasing. Janis flips him off as Damion returns the gesture. A few other people chuckle at them. Damion takes a dramatic swig and Janis shakes her head in disapproval.

"So, Ryder, how was school? Wait did homeschool even start today?” Damion scrunches up his face in confusion. Janis turns to me and raises her glass in greeting. I nod back.

“Yeah, school started how was your guys first day?” I ask back.

“Ugh, freaking awful. You won’t believe what Mr. Dannie said to me when I told him his plaid shirt made him look washed out...” Janis and I make eye contact in amusement as Damion takes off.

I met Janis and Damion my sophomore year of high school as I accidentally discovered this place. I was terrified that they were going to say something but lucky I managed to hide my wings quick enough, for them to not discover the color. Like me, they have feathered wings unlike demons’ black bat wings.

I always knew I was different when I was younger when the Dome fights started in school. Only angels have feathered wings, but theirs are always white. I am my own category, as the only person with feathered black wings. I would show my true wings around them, but I learned that I can't trust anyone. Angels can be just as cruel as demons, as ironic as that is. I do trust Janis and Damion, but only at hands length distance. Hence my fake name and me spray painting my wings to match theirs.

The other issue is that they go to Jefferson High, which is real close to Westerburg. I couldn't take any chances of someone overhearing of an angel winged girl named Veronica hanging with them. However, if I told them I went to the all demon school it would bring questions, so there’s the lie of home school.

I am broken out of my thoughts as Janis walks over to me and offers me a drink. I take it and smile in thanks. I take a sip and cough as the burning flavor hits my mouth. Janis laughs as she hits my back.

"Sorry, should've warned you this is stronger stuff then what we usually get," she points towards her friend as he stares into the fire zoned, "hence why gay pride over there is more dramatic than normal."

"Hey I heard that!"

She smirks and teases, "You were supposed to!" He mumbles something under his breath as he takes another sip. She snickers to herself and looks at me, her eyes widen, and she grabs my face and turns it.

"Woah, what did that to you?!"

Damion whistles, "Damn....Ryder, are you into some kinky shit?"

I furrow my brows until the memory of Heather using me as her personal scratching post.

"Oh...um my cat." Janis blinks and Damion scrunches his brows in disbelief.

"Your...cat?" Janis asks skeptically. Damion and her share a disbelieving look before they shrug and take a drink.

“Yeah, her name is Heather. She’s a real bitch,” I offer.

“Technically she would be a pussy,” Damion cackles at his own joke as Janis looks up to the sky in a pleading face. In response I take another swig.

A slight silence over takes as we all stare at the fire and enjoy the moment. The sky is clear, and stars are shining beautifully. The fire is warm and tranquil. Someone has hooked up one of the old lights to work so there’s light for people to play in the old field. I watch as some of the others kick the ball back and forth.

Janis claims this is where all of the 'troubled angels' go to unwind and relax after a shitty ass day. I don’t know much about them except they have their own set of Heather but called the plastics; who torment the both of them. They have my sympathy, but I can’t talk to them about my own demon queens.

“So, Janis are you gonna try out for the team this year?” I ask. Janis and Damion both cough as they inhale their beers from laughter.

”And deal with Queen Bitch? No thank you. I’d rather get my feathers plucked one at a time,” she says bitterly. I frown she has an opportunity to play but unlike me she doesn’t have to hide. What could have her Chandler done for her to hate her so much?

Damion leans across the fire and slugs Janis in the shoulder, “Aw come on! I’d pay to see you kick Regina’s ass in Skyball. Can you imagen the look on her face!?” Janis laughs and waves him off.

”Okay I’ll join if you ever win a Dome fight you big baby.” Damion laugh turns into a frown as he takes another slug of beer. Damion feels the same way about Dome fights as I do, but I have the feeling it’s because he got beat up a lot as a kid for his sexual orientation. My hand tightens around my glass, fucking assholes. No one should give a shit about who you like, the only person who should is you. Like whoever you want to.

Janis leans across the space and squeezes his knee,” I’m sorry that wasn’t cool of me to say.”

Damion shrugs and takes a sip, “Plus you could never pull off the outfit it would clash with your emo rage.” Janis smiles and points her beer to him.

”Damn, right.”

They go and tell me all about the suckage of Jefferson and how they are betting who The Plastics are going to destroy first this year. I listen until I hear a warning shout, “Heads up!”

I turn and jump with my wings pushing me down and do a quick side kick. I feel a satisfied thump as the ball sails back to the other group. I hear a few kids go “woah.” And I feel my blood hump as my heartbeat drills from the almost hit.

Damion wolf whistles as others clap. I smile embarrassed.

Janis wobbles next to me and punches my arm, “Come on, show off. Let’s go show them up.” I smile and push her back.

”Now, you’re talking.” I spread my wings out and we both take off speeding to the game. We push and playfully shove on another as we near the group. I love Martha and Betty to death, but I can’t really share this side of me with them. The thrill of the sky and the freedom of nothing but you and your wings to carry you.

”Yo, Jess shoot me the ball,” Janis call as I recognize the girl from previous times.

 The blonde haired girl carefully kicks the ball over and Janis kicks it with skill. Janis would have to be one of the best players I’ve come across- next to yours truly. Our love for the game causes us to be the best and worst of competition once we play.

Damion catches up and says, “Move out of the way people the two great champions of Loser Pits is going to compete!”

“Catch D!” Janis kicks the ball over and Damion squeals as he brings his hands up and we watch as the ball bounces of his form and hits the ground. A groan and laughs echo amongst the group.

”What the heck that was right to you!” Janis asks as she flies next to him.

Damion puts his hand over his chest and gasp, “You almost killed me!”

Janis rolls her eyes, “Don’t be too gay to function!”

Damion shrugs and brushes off the imaginary dirt from his shirt, “You almost ruined my cashmere.”

Janis groans at him and I laugh.

”Yo New Girl!” I look down as the angel in a green beanie throws the ball and I stop it with my chest and catch it with the side of my shoe and gently dribble it. I look over to Janis with a smirk as I turn my attention to the rusted, bent goal.

“Try to keep up!” I kick it to the beanie boy as he flies back up and I take off with Janis smirking close behind me. She grabs my shoulders and shoves me.

”Bring it, Ryder!”


	5. Call Me Crazy

**Chandler POV**

I grip the steering wheel with a white-knuckle hold, my engine purring under me. I huff with impatience as I glare at Duke to hurry the fuck up. She struggles with the thrown together bags and she tosses them in the back as they slump onto the floor. I perch my lips in distaste as I watch dirt and sand from the bags streak onto my leather seats. Oh well, I’ll pay someone to clean it later. I hear Duke mumble something to herself as she slams the door shut. I press the button and with the machinal whirring my roof collapses.

“Bout fucking time Heather. Mac must be home by now,” I complain. She looks at me with a dead-panned expression before crossing her arms and slouching as she looks out of the car.

“Sorry, Heather,” she says bored.

Whatever, I roll my eyes at her. I take a moment to check myself in the mirror. As I look at my eyeshadow, I notice a dark mass move in the reflection somewhere behind me.

What the...

 I grab and turn it, until the mirror focuses on the girl from earlier. I feel my demon perk up as I watch the girl put her hands in her pockets as she flicks her hair out of her face, she looks up at the sky with a secret smile and my breath slows as the sun makes the grease in her hair shine. I watch as the loser girl turns and starts to walk on the dirt path behind the school. Where is she going? I feel my blood start to hum as the familiar feeling of power. Hmmm...interesting.

“God you look fine. Can we go? I thought you were in a rush.”

I snap from my view of the retreating form to glare at Duke. She ignores me and I return my attention. I notice with a twinge of disappointment, that the girl is gone from my view. Damn it.

I growl in frustration as I push the mirror back and I slam onto the gas. Duke yelps as she slides in her seat as I jerk the steering wheel out of the parking lot. Mac’s shit shifts in the back and Duke grabs onto the door as she turns to look at the road with wide eyes.

“The hell Heather!?”

I smile and accelerate even more. With my roof down, the wind blows my hair back and gives me a sense of freedom. The speed makes my heart hum and my controlled (but jerky) turns cause my smile to grow with every noise emitted from Duke.

When we arrived at the house, my spirits were lifted as I pulled the key from the ignition. Duke looked pale, her braid in even more of a mess. Her one-handed death grip to the door and the other sprawled in a cat-like fashion to my center counsel. I spin the keys on my fingers as I hop out.

“Come on Heather.” I smile brightly, as I make my way up to the house.

My boots click against the stone walkway. Since Mac is a daughter of a greater demon it means she has big money. I understand he rules over the deadly sins of greed; making him richer and more flamboyant than my parent. Her house stands proud, made mostly out of white marble, with huge columers supporting the wrap around porch. An expensive outdoor lounge set out, for the nonexistent visitors to enjoy. I turn to look at the view, her house stands alone on top of a hill; over shadowing the lesser beings’ homes in the towns below. Mac’s mansion is the only one on this side of Westerburg.

I walk inside to be greeted by obnoxiously tall ceilings and real crystal chandeliers that reflect the light from the bulbs, causing rainbows to dance along the rooms. The house is very open to allow Mac to fly inside. The usual sense of silence is broken by a humming of loud music being played upstairs.

I walk towards the closest set of stairs, the marble steps are covered by a red carpet, I block out the hanging paintings and objects collected by her father throughout the centuries. I make my way down the long hallway at the top of the steps and open the door, only to stop at the sight before me. I shake my head as I see Mac, sing to a cringy human teen bop song as she brushes her dripping darken hair; wearing black booty shorts and a specialized yellow crop top with the word YOLO displayed across the chest.

I cross my arms as I lean against the wall, enjoying the show. She pauses from floating on her back so she could turn upright as she points to her reflection in the high skylights with the brush as her microphone.

“Hey, I just met you and this is crazy! But here’s my number, call me maybe?!” She shrugs to herself and starts freestyle dancing goofily with unnecessary head bangs and overzealous hip sways as she does a few fun dives. I cover my mouth to stop a smile from threatening to break from this monstrosity. This is too entertaining to stop. Duke makes her entrance as she sighs with relief as she drops Mac’s bags with a loud thud. She glares to me.

”Thanks for all your help,” she snarks. I put my middle finger to my lips to shush, then nod my head up towards Mac. Duke narrows her eyes but complies; her mouth drops open and a slight grin graces her lips.

”You got to be pulling on my dick,” she says to herself. She reaches in her back pocket and slides out her phone. She smiles evilly as she starts to record the oblivious singer. We both look up and hold in our snickers.

”Hot wind was blowing,” she pushes her wings back so she acts with a dramatic flair of wind going through her hair. “Rip jeans, skin was showing!” She drags her one hand across her taunt stomach and the other through her wavy mop, with a bitted lip. “Hey! Where you think you’re going, baby?!” She points back to her reflection, with brush in hand. She bounces and makes the crazy sigh at her temple. “This is crazy! But here’s my number so call me maybEEEeeeeek!”

She throws her brush at us as it slams against the wall a few feet to our right. She puts her hand over her chest as she looks to us in shock. Duke burst into cackles and I clap sarcastically.

“Well fuck me with a chainsaw. I wasn’t excepting that,” I tell Mac with a raised brow.

Duke bends over, hands on her hands as she wheezes, “Oh man! That was priceless!” Mac floats down and grabs the remote and turns off her speakers.

She turns to us and asks sheepishly, “Uh, when did you get here?”

I walk past her and sit myself gracefully on her bed and pick up a black fluffy pillow as I play with it. “Oh, anywhere between the second and third verse.”

“Oh.” Mac looks away her cheeks dusted pink. Duke stands up with her shit collected. She puts her hands on her hips as she raises a brow, “Call me maybe? Really? That’s so basic.”

Mac pouts and crosses her arms, “It’s catchy?”

Duke snorts as she plops herself down next to me. Mac goes over and picks up her bags that Duke brought up. She throws her backpack onto the leather desk chair and then starts to go through her sports shit.

“Thanks for taking this home for me. It was a fun to fly home. I forgot how much faster it is,” she pauses and looks to me, “no offense Channy.” I perk my lips at the childhood nickname, I assume it’s okay she calls me that. Only in private settings.

“Probs a lot safer too,” Duke mumbles.

I whack her in the face with the pillow. “Did you die? No, so don’t be such a pussy.”

I order as she spits out some fuzz that came off the pillow. She glares at me before turning her attention to Mac and following her gaze I realized she’s looking at her wings. Mac usually keeps her black leather bat wings hidden when we’re out in public, something about how she doesn’t want anyone touching them? I don’t know, Heather has always been more curious of the ability to fly than I have. I figure if I don’t have it why pin after something I can’t have? Make people pin after me instead, I’m either wanted as a friend or fuck. I don’t care either way.

I watch as Mac sniffs a shirt and pulls it away with a look of disgust. Ew, Mac why would you do that? She chucks the shirt into the growing pile of clothes in the corner.

“Mac, why haven’t your maids gotten to that yet?” I ask as I motion to the pile.

“Oh, that? Something of how my father wants me to start talking responsibility blah blah blah.” She rolls her eyes as her hand talks for her father. Duke smirks at her phone, and I lean over to see the video of Mac flying while singing, I shake my head at her.

Mac looks up and tilts her head in question at what has our attention, “Whatca got there Dukey?” Duke frowns and looks over to her with a stern expression.

“Dont call me that, and oh this?” She wiggles her phone in her hand. “Just a copy of our schools fearless head captain dancing to a trashy human song.”

Mac pales as the grip tightens in the shirt she holds, “What?! Delete it!”

Duke rolls her eyes and hums, “Fat chance.”

Mac stares at her and then I must retreat out of the way as she propels herself forward to tackle Duke. I safely stand a foot away from the bed as I watch Mac lay on top of a wide-eyed Duke.

“What the fuck, Mac!” Duke chortles.

Mac wings are spread out as she keeps them out of hitting distance as she grabs Duke’s one arm as she tries to get the phone that Duke is holding out of reach. Duke tries to push her off as she squirms and struggles to keep the device from Mac’s grabby hands. “Get off me you moron!”

“Not until you delete the video!” I watch with boredom as the children struggle, Mac attempts to launch forward to grab the phone, causing them to topple over. They both let out tiny squawks as the phone slides on the ground towards yours truly. I pick it up and press a few buttons as they argue.

I clear my throat and they both look over, I cross my arms and look down, “Did you two have brain tumors for breakfast? Grow up.”

I toss the phone to Duke, who catches it with ease. I walk over to the bed and reclaim my spot, “Now before you two start squabbling like children again, I already deleted the video,” I ignore Duke’s narrowed eyes and Mac’s thankful expression, “We need to decide what we are planning on doing this weekend. After all, I heard from Brad that Remmington might be throwing off some Keggers early this year.” I wait until they sit back down and throw some of their trivial ideas into the group.

I hide my smile as I feel my phone, hidden in my waistline, vibrate with a new message.

....

I rest my chin in my palm as I sit on the school’s bleachers. Disappointed that there is only Dome practice today. Dang, I was really looking forward to ripping something apart. I scan the crowd of peers, as Duke and Mac’ s conversation becomes background noise.

I scrunch my nose in distaste as I spot Mathews and the rest of the country fucks as they laugh about something that probably is as idiotic as them. I sigh internally and wait until the bell rings so I can be closer to leaving this boring ass place. It’s the same shit different pile, every damn day.

Satan, when did my life get so boring? At least I have the Homecoming parties to look forward to in a few weeks.

I blink as a loud obnoxious whistle blows, echoing through the stadium. A man in clique track paints and polo stands up to yell.

“Okay today’s practice is single hand to hand combat. This means no serious injury or killing,” some of the students groan, “Yeah, Yeah life sucks. Okay today’s first round goes to Veronica Sawyer!”

I examine at my nails wondering what color I should paint them just as I feel my demon rumble. I look up to what caught our attention when I see the slightly angry but nervous gaze of the girl towards the teacher. I blink, as I tilt my head in thought. The freak from the bathroom has a name huh?

Veronica.

I look down at the worn trademark boots to the strong tan legs to the dark blue dress and dark leather jacket, and navy-blue scarf. I feel myself become annoyed as I realize that the cloth covers up my markings. That little fuck. Who does she think she is?

“And going against her today is Jacob Matthews.” I pause, well fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

…

**Mac POV**

I break away from my conversation with Duke when a loud whistle echo's in the school's stadium. The school is very big on the intermediate Dome fights. Unlike Skyball. I admit bitterly as I look at the premium stadium.

Built much like the ancient Dome fight's in Rome, it’s a large arena filled with sand, high walls that lead up to the bleachers, the rows of chairs that are comfortable and cushioned (which happens to be blocked off from the student body as we sit in the common metal bleachers.) There’s no need to worry about powers getting out of control due to the shield; meaning things can’t go in or out. I look up to the clouds as the school built a huge skylight to save for the costs of lighting. I would rather be outside, and I squirm in excitement for practice later. I plan on doing my favorite drills- dribbling and passing.

“Okay today’s practice is single hand to hand combat," he looks up to look at us, "This means no serious injury or killing,” A groan builds up and he sighs as he brings up the clipboard, “Yeah, Yeah life sucks."

I swallow as I look out onto the blood thirsty crowd, what a bunch of animals. Wanting to hurt someone on purpose? Who wants to do that? We know each other since we were little, but now we want to kill one another. We're in a fight for survival and only the strongest survive.

"Okay today’s first round goes to Veronica Sawyer!”

I look over to the cluster of my class as I see a small group of girls hiding at the top of the bleachers, as a dark-haired girl with a scarf covering most of her neck and the lower half of her face. I squint my eyes as my brain ticks from where I know her from.

"Hey! Isn't that the girl from the bathroom?" I ask in a moment of clarity. I look over to Heather who seems to be starring daggers at her and I shrink as I scoot a little over. I start to feel the waves of wrath beat of off her. I bit my lip, usually when Heather gets like this it's best to leave her alone. But, why would the girl....oh. I turn to look at her, she's the girl that we saved from Jacob because she saved us from Fleming. Is Heather still mad about how she ‘owed’ her a favor? But we already repaid it, so shouldn't it be all okay? 

I lean over towards Duke, "Pst, Heather."

I look up to see that she seemingly pulled a book from nowhere. However, if I'm being honest Heather has always been a book nerd so I'm not that surprised. I guess it's because she likes them more than people? She has her knees up with the feet planted on the seats in front of us with the reading material on her lap, keeping it strategically out of coach's view. I frown as she ignores me and I try louder, "PST, Heather." Duke looks up from the book with a frown.

"What?"

I nudge my head towards the girl standing awkwardly in the middle of the arena, "Isn't that the girl that Heather rescued from earlier this week?"

Duke's eyes roll before they continue their motion of moving back and forth; as she takes in the words of the page, "Don't care."

I pout as I look down at the girl- Veronica, and I squint my eyes. It has to be her. I mean who else can it be?

"Well I think so, but I dunno with the scarf."

Duke eyes widen and she glances up for a hot second with an annoyed huff, "Yeah that's her." I smile, I knew it.

“And going against her today is Jacob Matthews," coach continues. I furrow my brows as Duke snorts from her seat.

"That little nobody is about to be destroyed."

"Shut up, Heather!" Chandler snarls. We both jump and Duke mumbles under her breath as she slouches downs pulling the book closer to her face, hiding behind the literature.

I blink as I look at Heather, she has both hands tightly gripped to the edge of the bleachers, as she sits leaning forward as if ready to jump up at any second. I notice her tense form as she glares daggers towards Jacob as he swaggers out onto the sand. I watch curious as her irritation and wrath grow as he seems to converse with the girl and the girl seem to match Heather's scowl towards him. He smirks at her and I hear as Chandler rumbles and my warning alarms go off. Why is this bothering her? I swivel my head back towards Jacob, but he seems to already be looking towards us and he sends a wink. Chandler's wrath grows, as the metal creaks under her hold. I argue with myself whether or not to ask her, I don't want her to pin point her wrath on me. I bit my lip, I mean I don't have to ask...I sigh.

I don't like to use my powers because I think they’re a big invasion of privacy and I don't like how it affects people. But maybe if I only use a little? I take a steady breath as I just scratch the surface of my powers, my eyes glow a very dull gold. I turn towards Heather and look above her as images of her thoughts of ripping apart Jacob and I frown in disgust at the amount of blood lust and thrill of the thought of doing that gives her. Then I watch perturbed as I see her then check on Veronica, but in her head,  she's smiling at Heather and I feel as Heather's demon perks up in pride. What the-

"Seriously?!" A person screeches.

I whip my head towards the developing scene as I see the cat demon, I think her name is Betty and an uncertain looking girl that seems to always be with her or Veronica. Martha?

"Come on Steve! This isn't fair and you know it!" He looks bored as he sighs, he turns to them and speaks to them slowly.

"I don't care Miss Finn she wasn't here earlier this week-,"

Betty throws her hands up, cutting him off, "She wasn't feeling well!"

Coach sighs as he goes, "Not my fault. Look this is the list that the school computer made for fights and practice. At random. So, it wouldn't be biased towards the students. That means," he speaks slowly as he taps his board to make his point, "that it is completely random and fair. Not based off of Dome status or bloodlines. So it is what it is."

Betty's tails swishes behind her and her cheeks start to turn red, "But."

He hits the board again with his hand, "No buts. The list is final. One more word out of you and it's detention for a week."

Betty's face contorts from shock to peeved. Her hands go to fists at her sides and Martha quickly pulls her away by her shirt and says calmly, "Take it easy Betty."

I hear her talk as she stomps her way back to their spot, no longer being pulled by Martha, "Fair?” she scoffs, “How is a computerized selection fair?! Ronnie is going to be killed Marth." Martha flinches and looks worriedly as she glances at her friend in the ring.

"I don't know. Maybe, it'll be okay. He did say no major injuries,” Martha weakly argues.

Betty stops and pinches her nose in exasperation. "Since when have the adults given a damn about people at our status?"

Martha looks helplessly as Betty slouches down in the stands. The whistle blows again, and we hear coach list off the rules. I turn now worried that Betty may have a point.

….

**Jacob Mathews POV**

"Jacob Mathews!" I roll my eyes as I look to coach as he calls my name. What does the old man want? I look down and notice that the girl from earlier this week- the smart mouthed loser Heather number one clammed as hers for the beating, standing in the sand arena.

“Dude nice. You finally can show that bitch who is boss,” Travis smiles as he glances at the Heathers’ proclaimed spot, “and there’s nothing they can do to stop you.” I smile wickedly and I look up to them with an award-winning smile.

“Looks like it’s going to be a good day boys...and ladies,” I add after Courtney’s humph. I hop down and make my way to the bitch as I put my hands in my jean’s pockets.

“Well looks like the universe decided to hand you to me,” I say in greeting. The girl throws me a glare before looking down at her feet with her arms crossed. I frown not liking to be ignored. I take a step closer, invading personal boundaries,” you never apologized to me.”

The girl looks up to me with a dumbfounded expression, “Apology?”

I smile as I glance up to see the Heathers: Heather one looks pissed as she glares down, probably that I get to take her plaything from under her, Heather two as  normal ignoring the masses behind some sort of book, uncaring to anyone not better to them and Heather number three looking at the seething leader in concern as she wishes she could jump at the chance to show her mystic powers to remind us how pathetic we are to them. The three purest of the pure bloods but not today, today I get to show the lesser ones their place- starting with the little nobody right here. I wink at number one and watch as her silver eyes glow red and I chuckle. She’s like a kid who has their toy taken away.

“But it isn’t fair!” I turn as I see the school’s slut try to get her unpowered friend free from the beating, she deserves. I lean down and whisper, careful to not touch her.

“Not even your whore and fat friend can save you now.”

The girl whips her head around and glowers. Her hands tense into fists at her sides as her jaw tenses in anger. I look down at her gross form, her disgusting worn jacket and scuffed boots. The scarf friaded and has a dire need of a wash. A dress that hangs off her like a bag. How can this school let people like her in it?

“Don’t call my friends that, you pompous ass!” She snarls.

I let out a humorless chuckle,” Big words for such a little girl.”

I twirl my fingers to let a little flame dance as it swirls. She crossed her arms and I smile as flash of fear shines in her eyes. I look back over to her yelling friend, “Don’t worry I’ll put you in your place, but once I’m finished with you; your friends will join you in your suffering.” She turns to me with wide eyes and a whistle blows cutting off any loser remark. I smirk, can’t wait to teach her a lesson.

The coach stands up in the ref box and looks out over us, “Okay Sawyer, Mathews, this is just a practice match. That means no poisons, no wings, no claws, no hidden weapons that we may or may not know about, no powers in general. Yes, Mathews that means your pyrokinetics.” I frown, damn but I don’t need fire power to beat this slut. “The match will last for ten minutes up to three rounds. You win by pinning your opponent until they tap out or are unable to fight. Please do not try to knock each other out, I don’t feel like filing the paperwork.” He looks towards me and I hold my hands up in surrender.

I smirk as I look at the girl, “I won’t.” I want to drag this out for as long as possible.

“Okay. Shake hands and then when I blow the whistle you may began.” I step forward and grip the hand that’s hesitantly offered hard. I watch the girl flinch and I soak up her pain. Good, she needs to learn you can’t get away talking to upper demons like me like that. She cradles her hand with a brave face, and she steps back into position. I put my hands in my pockets, not worried.

Coach blows his whistle and brings his hand down, “You May begin!”

She starts to walk in a slight circle and to amuse her I follow her lead. I watch her nose flare; she reminds me of a skittish deer. I tense exited and I have to hold myself back as I watch her nervous uneasy steps, her trashy boots kicking up the sand. I tilt my head and chuckle tauntingly as we circle one another.

I smile wolfishly, “Well ladies first, or are you too scared?”

I smile to show my teeth as I watch in satisfaction as the loser tenses and nostrils flare in anger. She looks up to me with a hated glare and my smirk grows. That’s right, loose control, become weaker than you already are. I want that fight that she had earlier this week, I want that defiance. I watch as she leaps for me and I turn and bring my foot out as she trips. A small cloud of dust comes up as she lands, and I step back with a smirk. Too easy.  The crowd in the stand lets out a laugh, and I soak it up.

“Wow in the dirt where you belong lesser blood.” She growls as she stands up and with a low snarl she jumps up and swings fast, wild and uncontrolled. Perfect, perhaps I should drawl this out. She swings low and I turn my body to the side as she flies past, and I quickly turn so she’s at my front. We play cat and mouse as I evade her attacks with ease and about the eighth crazy attempt to hit me, she stops breathing hard; glaring at me with hatred. And I stand with my hands in my pockets not even breaking a sweat. She really is so pathetic. With a tired lunge I turn and grab her arm and flip her over my body. She lands on her back with a nice bang. I quickly put my knee into her stomach and put my weight into her, so she feels my superiority, and I put my hand around her throat and squeeze. Her eyes widen as she grabs my forearm and I smile as her face turns red with the effort to breathe. How sad.

A whistle blows and I relax as I get off of her, she sits up and rubs her neck as she coughs. Her watery red eyes lock onto mine filled with anger and dislike. I smile wickedly, oh you have no idea what I have in store for you. She shakily stands up and doesn’t look away from me.

A whistle re-blows, “Mathews, you good?!,” I nod with a smirk as I look to the red Heather, “Yeah Coach Steve, I’m good.”

He nods and goes, “You may begin!”

I start to circle her again and the girl is now very cautious. She won’t attack first so I leap ahead, and I swing. With wide eyes and a yelp, she manages to duck. I smile as she scrambles back. Well what do you know? She knows how to run like a coward. I slowly stalk her, her breathing is rapid, and she glances between my hands, feet and eyes.

“Get her Mathews!” Travis yells.

“Shut up, Travis!” The school slut says back.

“Oh? I’ll give you something your mouth can do Betty!” I would laugh with the rest of the class if I wasn’t watching my opponent.

She ends up stumbling over her own feet as she walks backwards, seeing the opportunity I pounce. I grab the leather and I pull her close to my face. She looks to me with fear and I smile as I lift her weightless form and I throw her as hard as I can. She lands a good couple of yards away, body tumbling up dust and dirt. She stops and groans as she looks up to me from the dirt. I wait until she stands, and I make my fast advance. She freezes and I catch up as I throw a punch to her side. She tries to evade, resulting me hitting her in her hip. I hiss and she hollers at the impact. Bitch. I grab the back of her neck and slam her to the ground. With a growl I go to slam her back into the ground but a whistle blows.

I pause as I look at the wheezing nerd, how? I look to see her hand as it taps the ground. I narrow my eyes, she tapped out before I could really do anything. I smile at my friends as they hoot and holler in applause.

“Back into position!” Coach yells.

With a growl I push her into the dirt, and she whines. I begrudgingly get off her and I walk back to the middle of the arena. When I turn, I see her walking back, well at least she got up. I’ll give her that.

She looks to me and I look at the dirty patches on her with pride. Her already messy hair, now a wreck with mess and sand. The whistle blows and I don’t move and neither does she. We wait until I grow tired and I lunge.

She evades me and I turn to grab her. I manage to get her sleeve and I watch as she struggles, and I pull, and she rushes forward. She falls and I stumble back with the crappy jacket in my hand. I look at it then her on the ground. I sneer and throw it on the sand I move forward, stepping on it as I go.

She turns and crab crawls back and I go to get her, but she grabs my arm and pulls down, causing me to get off balance and fall. I land on the ground more surprised than hurt. I feel a soft object get wrapped around my throat then a hard tug as my oxygen gets cut off. My eyes open in shock and I hear the other students gap and roar with laughter. I try to stand but a weight strattles me, I try to buck her off but the girl tightens the scarf around my throat.

 I gasp for breath and I feel her legs tremble as she tightens her hold on me. I grit my teeth and get up on my knee and get my one hand out and burst it into flames and trust the fire on her arms pulling the pseudo-noose. Damn the rules, I will not lose to a powerless nobody.

“Veronica!” Her two friends yell in aghast.

I hear a scream and the pressure around me loosens. I grab the stupid material and rip it away. I stand and turn to see the crying girl look down at her blistering angry flesh on her arm.

“Fucking bitch.”

She looks up as her tears streak down her cheeks, her eyes filled with anger and pain. I step forward and she steps back.

“You think you can defeat me with a dirty rag?” I hold up the scarf, “You’re poorly mistaken and will pay for that skank.” I light the blue material on fire as the flames grow up to my shoulders. She looks to me in all fear.

“Mathews, stop!” Coach yells.

I ignore him as I yell as I throw a fireball. The girl jumps and I throw ball after ball, the sand turns into glass from where it strikes. The girl somehow manages to evade my throws barley. I run after her and I jump after her and she rolls to her side. She gets up and I have the perfect view of her back, I throw a ball and it hits the left shoulder blade, burning dress and skin alike. She falls with an echoing scream.

I laugh as my blood thirst roars, I stalk her and glance to the coach. He pounds at the controls; the shield seems to be stuck as the two girls yell at him and look at me in fear.

Perfect, here’s my opportunity. To show everyone where they belong. I walk to the whimpering girl and I pick her up by her hair. Her legs bent at her knees as she grabs my arm. She screeches in pain and struggles, my nose twitches away from her burned flesh. I smile as her painful expression locks into mine.

“I told you, you would pay.”

“Go to hell,” She snarls weakly.

 She grabs my arm and I see the fire from before. Good. I miss as she positions her feet as she jumps up as her fist swings up. I hear a loud crunch and an iron scent along with a blast of pain hits me. I drop her as I stumble back. A metallic taste hits my mouth along with a burning sensation of pain in my nose. Tears stream down my eyes causing my vison to blur. I bring my hand up to my nose and bring it away as the pain increases, blood covers my fingertips. I look at her in bewilderment. Bitch broke my nose.

“You’ll pay for that!” I promise.

She looks up with fearful wide eyes and I erupt with angry flames. She takes a step back with her fist clenched at her side. I roar as I lunge, and she ducks under my swing. I turn to see at a bony fist aiming for my face again. I grab it with my hand holding flames, I hear the sizzling of skin and scream. I throw her as she rolls. She looks up with wide eyes. I charge after her with a roar as I let a hose of flames chase her. She runs towards the controls. She ducks and avoids me, her dress becoming singed. She pounds on the force field as her friends on the other side look on in hopelessness.

“Get me out!” She cries as she looks back at me.

I smile as her fear gives me a powerful sensation. I throw fireballs and a sense of electricity hits the air as the shield absorbs my flames. She scrambles away and I make my flames down into a whip as I strike her. She yelps and I circle it around her torso as I pull her towards me. She falls and I control my whips to not burn through her.  

I stop as I look down at her. I release my flames on her and I snarl. “Don’t you see? This is where you belong. At my feet.” I kneel to whisper, “You should’ve never have stood up to me. You are nothing. A nobody.”

I look to see her shake in fear, and I laugh. “What? Out of witty comebacks.” Before I know what’s happening, I feel a tightness around my throat, and I look up to see bright burning eyes.

“Will you just shut up?” She hisses as she stands. I choke as she looks down at me. Wha- what happening? Her face is stormy as see narrows her eyes.

“It’s not your time but I will treasure your passing into the gates of hell,” her raspy voice rumbles. What the fuck is she- I gasp as her hands tighten and then I


	6. Chapter 6 I crave a boon

**Martha POV**

“Get the fucking shields down!” Betty yells at Coach Steve as she bangs on the shield. Her eyes filled with worry as we watch Ronnie run as Jacob throws burning fireball after fireball. They cause the sand to jump up and I flinch at each impact. I watch as she ducks and turns with a slide. Oh please, Veronica hang in there.

“What do you think I’m trying to do Finn!?” Coach yells at he hits the control panel with both hands. The skin around his arms grow and turn grey as the flesh turns to stone with frustration.

“Can’t you do something?! Veronica is about to get burned to death by the fucking psycho your computer paired her with!” Betty turns red faced, claws extended with rage and fear. Her ears are more pointed then usual and are pinned back, tail swishing around her.

He turns to her, face have red flesh and other part gargoyle, but he roars, “Sit down! This happens sometimes!”

Betty freezes before stuttering in disbelief, “H-happens. Sometimes?! Are you fuck-“

I turn not wanting to hear this anymore and I can’t watch as Veronica runs for her life. I grip my sweater trying to ignore the twisting in my stomach and the quickening of my breaths. I look out onto the mixture of faces- some delighted to see the fight they wanted, others disgusted and some shocked. I turn to see the band members vary with scared and interested. I blink as I look at Elizabeth Durker- a micro-psychokinetic. I quickly walk over to her. She sits with her friend Racheal as they watch in fear at the fight.

“Hey Elizabeth.” She jumps but turns to me and adjusts her glasses.

“Uh, Yeah?” I play with my shirt, hoping that I’m right.

“Your powers deal with electric current right?” She blinks and nods in confusion. Her friends look at me with disturbed interest and similar confusion.

I swallow my shyness, “You think you could,” I point to the control box as Coach struggles with it. “Ummm control the frequency to open the shields?”

Elizabeth shrugs turning back to the fight, “I don’t know. I don’t want to break anything.” I take a breath as a little bit of anger hits me. I don’t like talking to people I don’t know.

”C-could you please try?” I flinch as a scream echoes in the room and my heart. “For Veronica?” Elizabeth freezes and turns to her friends, who some nod at her to go and others shake their head in denial.

“I mean…I can try.” She stands up and I feel a bubble of hope. We walk over and I try to figure out how to talk to Coach as he hits the panel again.

“Um, Coach Steve?”

“What!?” He turns and I flinch at his angry gaze, he relaxes when he sees me. He sighs as he turns back to the box, “What is it Dumptruck?”

I don’t bother to correct him, there’s more pressing matters. Betty turns to me, breath hard from trying to claw her way in. She curls her lip at him.

“Um, Elizabeth powers in electricity so maybe she could help?”

He turns and pauses. I turn to look as I hear laughter and shocked gasps as Ronnie sits on top of a struggling Jacob choking him with the scarf, I made her. We’re gonna get there Ronnie, hang on.

“Oh, hell, just do it.” I turn to Elizabeth and offer a small encouraging smile as she takes a timid step. She puts her hand on it and closes her eyes. We wait as I flick my gaze between her and Ronnie. I feel my heart beat against my chest and I want to tell her to hurry up, but I know she’s doing her best.

Betty comes over to me as she looks down at Elizabeth, “What is she doing?”

“She is trying to manipulate the control system into opening up the shield-“

We both jump as we hear a pounding, I look over with large eyes as Veronica pounds on the shields. I’ve never seen her this terrified before. Betty jumps in front of her as she looks into the shield.

“It’s okay Ronnie, we’re working on it.” Her brown eyes shine with hopelessness as she falls to the ground just in time as two fireballs explode into the shield.

“You fucking coward, Matthews!” Betty roars as Veronica falls to the ground by his fire whips. Coach leans down.

“Hurry up Durker!” Coach commands. He looks up with slight worry as Matthews leans over our girl. I swallow in worry.

“I’m doing the best that I can! I don’t want to fry the entire system.” She explains.

I bite my thumb as I get ready for the killing blow towards Ronnie. I close my eyes, oh god, oh god, why is this happening? I shake with sadness and anger as I feel warm tears streak down my cheeks. Ronnie doesn’t deserve-

“What the hell?” I hear someone on the bleachers say.

I turn to blink. Ronnie is standing with red angry blister markings as she stands up hovering over the increasing red face of Jacob as she chokes him with one hand.

“Ronnie?” Betty asks quietly. We watch as she talks but her hair is covering most of her face so it’s hard to make out her expression and what she’s saying.

“I think I got it.” Elizabeth hand grows as blue sparks come from it and I hear a surge of energy. Before the lights and everything goes out.

”Oops,” she says and I turn to see with relief as the shield is down but with the light from the sky light I watch as Jacob stumbles back, blood dripping down his face and he bends over with a gurgled yell as he spits out blood as he holds his nose. His hands turn red. With a face I’ve never seen Ronnie wear before she takes a step forward as she grabs the back of his head and kicks her knee up, smashing this face to it. He yells as falls back as blood pokes from his nose and mouth. By god, there’s blood everywhere. She stands over him and we freeze as she takes her boot and kick him in the chin, his head snaps back and his head against the ground. He doesn’t move. She turns and looks at us, her face contorted in rage and then flashes to pain as she reaches to her shoulder blade. She stumbles and falls to a knee, her fall full of pain before her eyes drift to the back of her head and she slumps over.

”Veronica!” Betty yells as she rushes forward. I freeze as I watch transfixed on her slumped form. Coach races after Betty and I hear his muffled voice yell for someone to get the nurse. Ronnie?

...

Betty and I rush to the Nurses office as the bell rings. We get to the door, were I would’ve knocked, Betty barges in. The nurse looks up with wide eyes before settling on with a glare. She narrows her eyes and signs, ‘Get out.’ The nurse at our school is human but deaf as to not tell anyone about what she sees here, if she does her hands will be cut off. Cruel, but all demon laws are. I sign, ‘Please, our friend got hurt.’

She sighs and I bit my lip hoping she’ll let us stay. I’m in here a lot because I’m interest in medicine and the fact I get nose bleeds a lot. She looks to me with warmth, ‘You have five minutes.’

I smile big and say, ‘Thank you!’

I turn as Betty looks to me expecting. “She says we have five minutes.”

Betty nods and pulls back the curtain that we’re guessing to be Veronica’s. I gasp as I look at the wounds. Betty ignores me and sits down and gingerly puts Veronica’s head in her lap and starts to play with her hair.

Betty turns to me with hope in her eyes as she gingerly holds Veronica in her arms. She shakily holds her hands over the burns, I look down in dread at the blacken and red blustering flesh. The skin is pulled back and some of the blisters are leaking yellow and clear fluid. The one that knocks me off my feet and makes me want to sob is the one on her back, the skin is black and crisp. The material of her dress is burned into her skin. Her beautiful tattoos that she never talks about and one’s Betty and I rarely see are ruined. Well the left one at least is. Poor Ronnie.

“Do you think you can heal her?” Betty asks me.

I bite my lip and shake; with anger at Jacob for doing this, for the school, for Coach Steve who couldn’t stop him, in sadness for Ronnie, for her pain and the trauma she was put threw. I have a rare demon talent for healing, my parents are proud of my gift. I have dreams of becoming a doctor, but what hospital will let a demon work there? I shake my head in hopelessness and it’s a punch in the gut to see Betty’s face fall.

“I don’t know Betty,” I look at Veronica’s injuries once again. “I’ve never tried it on anything this severe before.”

“What about that time in Kindergarten?” Betty asks and I pause. My doubt and anxiety start to kick in and I play with the end of my sleeves. I look down at my shoes. I remember the crack and scream as I mended the bone back together, fear grips me.

“I don’t know, I kind of just reacted.” Betty looks down and brushes away Veronica’s bangs.

“Well react now.” I turn and look at the nurse as she types up the chart for Veronica and Jacob. I bite my lip as I look at the broken and burned body of one of my best friends. My heart aches with the need to heal as my concern and love of my friend takes over.

“You know how this works. What I heal, I must break. Who am I going to give the injuries to?” I question.

Betty eyes narrow as her face darkens as she turns to the knocked-out form of Jacob. I wince at the dried-up blood splattered one his face and shirt. His nose is swollen and purple, the green and yellow bruise from where Ronnie kicked him in his chin.

I shake my head, “Betty, no.”

She whips her head to me and snarls, “And why not?! Lord knows he deserves it!”

Her claws tighten in the thin blanket around Ronnie, tearing through the material. The nurse looks up and glares at us, I sign back ‘Sorry.’ She puts a finger to her lips as she goes back to her notes.

I look down to the sleeping girl. “Because Veronica would never stand for it if I did that and I agree with her.”

I hear as the blanket rips as Betty takes her frustration on the white material.

“God, you’re both such pillowcases!” She growls and I stand there twirling my thumbs in guilt. I want to help Ronnie, I really do, but I don’t want to hurt anyone in the process.

“What about me?” she asks quietly.

I shake my head no vigorously. I won’t watch pain transfer one friend to another. I refuse. Betty huffs and a strong silence takes over the tiny nurse’s office.

“I could take the burns, I won’t mind.” I say truthfully. Betty scoffs as her tail twitches in disapproval.

“As if. Your parents would skin me and Veronica alive if we let you do that.” I flinch as I already hear the tongue lashing from them. They’re a bit over protective.

“But, what about Ronnie? I feel so bad.” I look at her back. “She’s going to be so mad about her tattoos being ruined.”

Betty looks down and gently traces the one that’s not as burned, following the black lines on her back.

“I don’t know…She never really showed them off. Maybe she won’t mind?” I purse my lips in disagreement.

“They could mean something to her,” I offer. Betty shrugs.

“But why not tell us?” I pause not sure of that answer.

I look down to the closed eyes, her tan skin glistening with sweat as she flinches in her sleep. Her brown hair disheveled, and I watch as Betty makes soothing strokes threw it, trying to finger comb it out. I sigh as I sit down at her feet. I lean against the pale wall. I look down at my hands, why can’t I only heal?

“Well one thing did come out of this cluster fuck.” I turn to look in question as Betty continues to look down at Ronnie’s sleeping form. “Dickhead over there got the ass kicking he deserves, and our girl delivered it.”

…

**Chandler POV**

I pace around my coffee table again, my feet treading on the fluffy white carpet. I feel the white fake fur move as I turn to begin another pass from one side to another. Worry gripping me as I flash back into my memories, the Sawyer girl falling in slow motion. I hold myself back from flinching or giving any signs of emotions as I see her blacken skin make rough contact with the sand. My demon growls lowly as I know who cause such damage. I feel my chest rumble from it, I question why seeing this nerd hurt bothers me so much. I live for the pain of others. I growl at myself as I turn for another pass.

Mac lays stomach down on my red comforter, hugging a fluffy white pillow on my king size bed. Her chin on her arms as she watches me make rounds. I ignore her in her sweaty clothes, too busy thinking to care at the moment. Usually I would demand shower and fresh clothes before sitting on my furniture.

Duke ignores me completely as she sits in my hanging chair in the corner of my room. I would never admit it to anyone, but I installed it mostly for her. She usually comes over with book in hand so instead of her taking up room on my bed, I put in the hanging swing filled with comfortable pillows and blankets. She glances up every now and then but mostly focuses on the book of this week.

“So,” Mac drawls, “do you want to talk about it or?” I shoot a glare at her and she puts her head back down onto the pillow. It’s quiet for a few minutes.

“I must say,” I look up to see Duke flip a page, “I am impressed at how long she lasted,” I growl in warning, in warning of what I’m not sure. Duke glances up, “and to actually win the match.” I stop growling and turn.

Mac turns her face to look at Duke, “I know but I feel so bad that Jacob burned her like that. Can you imagen the pain?”

My demon snarls as Veronica’s face contorted at his flames touched her bronze skin. She was mine, I claimed her as my prey. My demon wants me to slash my claws down the walls in anger, but I restrain the urge.

“I know and it sucks cause she doesn’t have any powers to help heal.” Duke drawls.

Her scream echoing in my mind, refueling my wrath as I increase my pacing. Her skin contorting as fire eats away at the flesh, the bloody, blistering red skin and then the charred area of her back. Her skin molded with the dress. I feel my nails grow and I dig them into my palm. The pain keeping me focused, thoughts away from her.

"I know I feel so bad," Mac agrees as she sighs. Concern swirling in her blue bell eyes, she blows her few escaped hairs out of the way. "Do you think she'll have scars?"

I pause for a moment; I did not think of that. I narrow my eyes, Jacob caused this. She will have to live with them, all because of that bastard's inability to keep a fight fair. If he was so sure of his win, he would have never resorted to using them. He'll pay for that.

Duke shrugs, "Most likely." Mac sighs and I continue my pacing and the only noises are the comforting pages turning from Duke's reading.

"Yah know what confuses me?" Mac asks rhetorically, "How did she manage to win? I mean I know technically," she brings up in quotations, "It is considered a draw in the Dome committee's point of view, but she did manage to knock him out as well." I blink as I remember her breaking his nose and then knocking him out with one kick. Either she’s stronger than she looks or-

“You might be on to something Mac.” Mac and Duke turn to me with questioning looks. “Well think about it she managed to break his nose and knock him unconscious. No human or powerless lesser blood can knock a demon out with a single kick, especially Mathews. He has a hard head, and me vomiting in my mouth, he isn't that weak.”

Mac tilts her head thinking, “So you think she could be like Dukey?” Duke frowns as she glares at Mac at the suggestion or nickname. I pause.

“I don’t know,” I admit, but that’s not a terrible idea. I turn to pace, feet dragging from the carpet.

“Do you think she’ll be at school tomorrow?” Mac asks. She tilts her head as her eyes trace my back and forth motion. I look down at my marble floors, only the occasional carpet to get me off of the cold surface. I switch to look up to my tall ceilings (Not nearly as tall as Mac's) and rub my hand through my locks in frustration.

"With those burns unlikely,” Duke answers going back to her book.

My demon hisses at her answer. I look over at her sanctuary in my room, the giant sleeves filled with books that I will more than likely never touch. Her shoes are kicked off onto the little throw rug below her. The wooden woven swing is tied by a long thick rope over a beam that crosses over my room ceiling.

“Shut up, Heather!” Duke sets the book down with a raised brow. She sits lax as she already changed into grey sweats and a white t-shirt, her hair out of its usual braid or side pony, casting curly black waves down her shoulders.

"I’m just being honest, Heather," she defends.

I growl as I glare at her, "Well, your opinion is unwanted.”

She sighs and slouches in the chair as she pushes her foot off of the wall to swing as she reads. I purse my lips as I think. I have to punish Jacob since he went against my rule. He hurt someone I claimed as mine and he knew better. But I can’t charge in half assed no all of the Country kids have been too cocky for their own good this year. I stop as my demon rumbles in agreement, excited to fight those who got to our prey before we could.

“We need to teach the country kids a lesson,” I declare.

Mac flops up onto her elbows with her cheeks in her hands, hair in a messy pony tail, as her feet kicked up swinging back and forth.

"What do you have in mind?"

I pause and think. What would be a good way to humiliate and teach them a lesson? As well as be big enough to make them an example to the rest of the school to gain our status. Everyone already fears us; I've made sure of that. We have the status as the strongest and being known as pure blooded. I glance at Duke, well they think that we're all the strongest and pure. Sometimes rumors work in favor to boost reputations, not tear them down. What could be better than being humiliated? What could we do?  I could tell Kurt and Ram to not invite them to the party they throw every year, but that's not saying much, almost any loser can show up there. The first Remmington bash is coming up but people already know that we are going; we go every year. I huff as I grow frustrated. Now, Sawyer beat one of the best...players. She beat a player, a good one. What be more humiliating than losing to a nobody? They're already going to feel the hits of that, people are already talking. Her status moved up on the Dome board as well- even on a drawl. What if that wasn't her only status to move? What if I made that greasy little nobody, a Heather?

….

I slam my locker door shut and I huff, well that plan was a blow. She didn't show up for class for the rest of last week. I honestly am not all that surprised; she was burned bad, but she doesn't need to take her sweet ass time either. There was nothing on her social media either like come on there’s no need to be dramatic.

I turn and start to walk towards my usual meet up spot with Mac and Duke; my heels clicking. I push open the bathroom door to run into the usual scene of Duke leaning against the wall as Mac looks into the mirror fixing her already perfect lip gloss. I realize that Mac is wearing her black jersey top, a red W standing proud on her chest as the tight spandex like material sticks to her lean form. I take my spot next to her hand out and Duke is ready with my red lipstick.

I pucker my lips as I go to apply the makeup, when the door opens. A light raspy voice calls, “Catch you later Martha.” Oh great.

I turn and freeze to see the target of my newest plans. She looks up with startled eyes as we stare at her. She mumbles, “Shit.” I raise my brow in question to that.

I put a hand on my hip, “Can we help you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you guys were in here.” She goes to walk out and I have a moment of dread; shit. She hesitates before opening the door and turns.

"I crave a boon." I lift up my brow in shock. Well, well this is a development. I raise a brow and put a hand on my hip as I scan her form. Her boots from before standing proud on her feet, the dark blue jeans on her legs showing tanned skin where rips were made and her arms are held at her sides, and I notice with a twinge of something as her handshakes slightly. The loose long sleeve black shirt hides any burn marks that could be on her skin. I want to step forward and rip her sleeves up to see the damage, but I know that would not be acceptable. Her disheveled hair sprawled around her face, hiding most of it under a red beanie. I scan her face and can't find any bruises or cuts, to my comfort.

"What boon?" I snap realizing that I was quiet for too long as I looked her over. Mac and Duke wait patiently behind me as they look her over as well. Mac looks to me with a lifted brow and I ignore her gaze and Duke eyes Veronica as she waits for the nerd to answer.

"Just let me sit at your table, at lunch, just once, no talking necessary. If people think you guys tolerate me, they'll then leave me alone." My eyes pop open and I have to turn my smile into a smirk. She walked right into my hands, now I don't have to go up to her and make myself open to rejection. It's so funny I find myself chuckling and practiced as ever, Mac and Duke joins. She must think we're laughing at her and her cheeks turn pink as she talks faster, “I can even help you out like I did before! I can do report cards, permission slips and absent notes.” She counts on her hand of all the things she can forage. I would say to anyone else I doubt it, but I’ve seen her skills firsthand.

“What about prescriptions?” Duke asks mockingly. Veronica goes to answer but I cut her off.

“Shut up, Heather.” I growl shooting a warning glare. Don’t ruin it for us, my eyes say in silent. She huffs and looks down in her feet, much like a scowled child.

Veronica looks at us hopeful and I walk around her seeing what I can do to change her. Her outfit must go, I’m sure I can figure out something for her to wear that’s more fashionable. I lift up a piece of hair, surprised at how soft it is and I think I can tame it into place. Finally, I walk back front and gently lift her chin and turn her face side to side. Good jawline, nice smooth skin with very few blemishes, nice eyebrows, thick long dark lashes that I’m immediately jealous of and I freeze as her dark brown gaze looks concerned to me. I feel my demon flare and I step back, right destroy the country club then this nerd. She still owes me.

“For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure.” Mac bounces by me and looks at her face.

She excitedly adds, “And a symmetrical face! If I would take a meat cleaver down the center of your skull; I would have matching halves.” I look at her in bewilderment, what the fuck, Mac?

She turns to me in sheepishly, “It’s very important?” I roll my eyes as Veronica looks at her in slight horror, a hand streaming down her nose in the center at the thought. A slight pause enters the room, and Mac and I turn to Duke expectantly. Come on, she needs to think we all want her, or she might not go for it.

Duke looks at me deadpanned, “You could stand to lose a few pounds.” I scrunch my nose in disapproval as Mac eyes widen at the rude statement. Veronica looks down and grabs her one arm as she hides behind herself. I need to talk to Duke how to freakin talk to people. I sigh as I turn back to the ashamed girl.

“Yah know? I think this could be beautiful,” scan her features again thinking of were to add makeup to highlight her already their features. “Mascara? Maybe, some lip gloss and we’re on our way. Heather, I need your blush and Heather I need your brush,” immediately Mac goes to grab it out of her backpack. She was the most excited to add a new member into our group, naturally. “I’ll make you beautiful. It’ll be beautiful,” I declare.

I grab Duke’s offered pallet and I hesitate, I need an answer before I start. “Okay?”

Veronica looks at the makeup like it’s some sort or weapon and flicks her gaze back to me. Mac returns to my side with her brush in hand as she looks Veronica’s locks with a calculating gaze. She bites her chapped lips before sighing.

“Actually, there’s one more thing I want from you.” I lift my brow.

“Aren’t you pushing it? You still owe me from before.” She turns to me and crosses her arms.

“No, I actually don’t.” I narrow my eyes and shut the powder with a loud snap.

“Excuse me?” She fumbles as she widens her eyes, seemingly remembering who she’s dealing with.

“W-What I mean to say is…you helped out with Mathews cause I got you out of detention with Flemming so we’re fair there but here...I-I’ll” she pauses and I cross my arms. Fingers drilling as I wait for her tongue to catch up with her mind. 

“You’ll what? Spit it out I don’t have all day.” Duke snickers and Mac lowers the brush pouting at the improv make over season seemingly over.

“I’ll owe you big. I promise to repay you,” She pauses and looks at each of us,” owe all of you, but I just want you guys to leave Martha and Betty alone. The country kids might leave me alone when I’m with you today at lunch but later I’ll have to deal with them. So will they, just-“ She sighs as she rubs the back of her neck as she looks up. I notice how tired she looks. I feel my arms slip as I let my wall crack just a bit. “Just don’t- just leave them be please?” She looks over with big pleading eyes and I fill my battle with my will losing.

“Fine,” She looks up to me hopeful but I stick out my finger for her to wait, “You will however follow exactly what we say and do, when we say and do it. You will not ask questions. When I say jump, you better ask how high? Understand?”

Mac looks to me confused, “But you just told her to not ask questions?” I fight the urge to pinch my nose at the incoming headache.

“It’s an expression, Heather.” Duke answers for me. Mac mouth pops open in a small ‘o’.

Veronica chews on the idea, not looking to happy but eventually offers her hand,” Okay.”

I raise a brow ignoring the offered appendage, “Okay?”

“Okay,” She confirms. I smile as Mac bounces forward. Perfect.

…

We walk to my car as Duke opens the door and slides into my passenger seat.

“You know I think this is a terrible idea,” She says to me as she puts on her sunglasses as I press the button to let the roof down.

“Well I don’t really need your approval to do it, now do I?” I reply as I watch my ceiling lower and I check behind me for any idiots. I put the car in reverse as I start to drive out of the school parking lot.

Duke purses her lips as she leans an arm on the window seal, “We both know you will do whatever you want without my or Mac’s approval. I’m just saying do you think bringing the Sawyer girl into our circle will be the best course of action?”

I check the road as I pull out as other students loiter or rush to escape the school premises. I turn as I speed towards my house.

“Of course, I do or else I wouldn’t have done it,” I tell her with a lifted brow. For Duke being one of the smartest people I know she can be pretty daft at times.

“Uh huh. Well I don’t know if this isn’t going to backfire.” She states as she leans forwards to turn on the radio. She skips through random stations until she finds a station that she’s satisfied with.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Come on Heather. She’s a nobody. A loser, people like her beg to be with us and you give her that chance. How do you know she won’t stab us in the back once she gets what she wants?” I purse my lips. I mean I have thought of that but I figured that I can handle anything that comes my way.

“She is a nobody that has everyone’s attention as of now and that she tries anything…I’ll rip her spine from her body. Besides you used to hangout with her friends and now look at you.”

Duke frowns as she sighs. She turns her body away from mine and looks out of the window. “That’s different, and you know it.”

…

**Veronica POV**

I blink open my eyes, heavy from a long slumber, and push off of the dark blue mattress that I was laying on. I sleepily rub my eyes as I look around at my surroundings. I see the light grey painted walls and dark wooden floors, with a comfy black throw rug in the middle.

Oh, I’m home.

 I squint my eyes in confusion as I sit up, I'm surprised to find myself without a headache or any pain in general. The last thing I remember was- my eyes snap open as I look around in panicked shock, my heart drumming against my sternum.

What the hell? How am I in my room? I was in the Dome arena at school fighting, Jacob Mathews. How am I here?

I pause waiting for reality to pull a joke as I'm about to wake up in the hospital. After a few moment of nothing, but me watching the floating dust particles dance in the rays of sun streaming through my blinds; I concluded that I am either dead or dreaming or I'm crazy and everything that I think happened was just a big figment of my imagination and I'm just some normal human girl with lots of mental issues.

I pause, nah that's crazy it would be like me blowing up the school or something.

I get out of bed and make my way to the tall wooden vanity mirror by my dresser, I stop to see that I’m in a long loose long sleeve T-shirt. I bite my lip as I hesitate to look at myself. I don’t feel anything from my back or arms, no throbbing or burning pain that brought tears to my eyes. I move my shoulder in a quick shrug-no pain. That’s a good thing, right? I glance down at my hands and bring them up and wiggle my fingers. I experimentally touch each fingertip to my thumb, nothing here either.

I huff and try to mentally prepare as I look in the mirror as I slowly lift the tan cloth up my arms. I pause as it reaches my elbows. I look down to see white wrappings, stained with some sort of yellowish liquid. That can’t be good, did I burn my nerves off?

Oh, god.

I feel myself start to shake as I began to undo it. Trying to avoid the thoughts of my back- memories of shearing pain so bad I thought he burned the insides of my bone too. I feel myself get nauseous at the thought that I’ll never be able to fly again, god please let my wings be okay. I don’t care that I might never get to write or play Skyball again- just please let me be able to fly. The dirty wrappings fall from my arm and I glance down to- normal looking skin? I flutter my eyelashes as I look at the smooth tanned skin in perplexed bewilderment. What the?

I thought surely my skin must be a goner, I remember the burnt blistering angry skin. The awful smell of my own flesh burning. I quickly unwrap my other arm to see the exact result- unharmed healthy epidermis gracing my forearm. I glance at my reflection in shock as I stand there dumbly with my arms out in front of me. How is this possible?

They must’ve- _Martha._

I furrow my brows. Martha can heal anything, but she would’ve had to pass my wounds or something just as painful to someone else...she wouldn’t. I look up into my eyes, no she would for me. I grip my hands into fists as guilt sets in, she hates hurting people. Why would she do that? I would rather just live with the pain, even if it meant...if it meant... my eyes widen in realization.

Does this mean my- with rushed ungraceful motions; I rip off my shirt. My head gets stuck and I hear the noise of the material ripping as I stretch it out to get it off. I turn and pull my shoulder length brown locks out of the way as I glance at my back. There are wrappings around my bust and shoulders. After a minute or two of angry searching, I find the beginning and are about to unwrap it when I pause. Do I really want to know?

Yes, yes I do; even if I might not like the results.

I get the harder, longer task of these wrappings off- I may have cursed whoever put the Skyball field length of wrappings on me out. Finally, I turn to see the dark red mixed with yellow discharge-soaked material fall to the floor. My stomach drops as I gag. Please- no. I turn and see the results. My stomach grows heavy-like I swallowed a ton of rocks and I cover my mouth as tears come to my eyes. I gently run my nails over my backside.

Thank god. My back much like my arms are completely healed and normal. There is more reddened skin from healing and new growth. The black dark edgy swirls of my wings stuck to my skin show no abnormalities or blemishes of burns. They run from an inch below my shoulders, covering my scapula’s to three inches below my waist line, some feathers curling to my side boob, and if I wish I could magically place them to have the tips end curling on my hips, instead of below my pants. However, no matter where I put them-I love the fact they are always edgy tribal looking, with wicked swirls and cutting ends and odd design weird enough to be cool.

I pause, what about my physical wings? I need to know they’re okay. I turn to look at my closed door- hearing nothing from my parents, I close my eyes and uncurl my wings. It’s much like when you open a fist after squeezing it hard for a long time. You have to think about it and do it slowly- you reach a point where the muscles tense and strain causing a wave of heat as blood circulation renters the limb. Finally, they relax in relief as they stretch out. My wings grow hot as they magically turn from black ink to black feathers and cartilage. They uncurl as I strength them out, a wave of heat enters them, and I groan at it.

It feels great to finally have them free. I always feel lighter having them out, I don’t have to hide a part of who I am.

I have to stand sideways to fully stretch them out and my bottom feathers still get pushed against the walls as my wingspan outlenghts the corners of my room. I slowly bring them in, curling them around my body as to not knock anything over and because they’re stiff from not being stretch in a while.

I guide my hand down the soft feathers, noticing in amusement as they glow purple in the sunlight. I check my left wing and notice in surprise that a few of my feathers are singed and smaller more fluffy gray feathers growing in areas. New feathers. I guess that could be from healing, I mean unless my feathers decided to grow longer which I’m doubtful.

As angry I am that a few of my feathers and part of my wings show signs of being burnt- I’m more relieved that I still have a wing _and_ for them to be this healthy at that? I need to get out tonight and test them out.

I hear a clanking of dishes and I jump, causing my wing to knock into my mirror with a panicked look I launch to fix it as it wobbles. In doing so I knock perfume bottles and other cluster of things off my dresser. I wince as they tumble to the floor with different whacking sounds.

I let out a breath as I stabilize it and everything goes back to quiet. I guess I should go down and talk to mom and dad, they must have been freaked about having the school call them about my condition. I flinch as I’m sure mom was panicked and dad not fairing much better. Great, time to go face their wrath. With a moment of dread, I strech them out once more before curling them back to my body, causing them to lay out from my shoulders to hips. Magically transformed back from feathers to tattoo. I grab a pair of jeans, long sleeve shirt and beanie- not wanting to deal with my hair.

I grab the wrappings and look at my arms, debating. I sigh, I need to keep Martha’s power a secret. I rewrap my arms as best as I can- abet a much sloppier job than whoever did them originally, but oh well; good enough.

I slowly creak open the door and make my way quietly down the steps trying to sense the mood. The scent of bacon and coffee reaches my nose, causing my stomach to growl and my mouth to water. I’m famished. I pass through the living room and peak through the doorway to see my dad read a newspaper as he takes sips from his mug. Mom stands at the stove flipping over what seems to be an omelet and I pause at the domestic scene.

My parents are both lesser bloods, but their traits are small enough that they can work in the human world; using their abilities have made them well off, not enough to make us stupid rich but enough to let us enjoy things in life and never be worried about the basics. They both work in a law firm, my dad a case manager and my mother a secretary. That’s how they meet.

My dad is dressed for work in black cargo pants, white dress shirt and black tie. His graying hair cut short and jelled back to make him look more professional. His skin covered in random patches of red, wrinkles skin that it portrays to humans as burn marks. Since he is part fury, he lives off the injustice of the system and thrives on making humans who deserve worse fate have worse punishments then legally allowed. I shiver at the idea. No offense to my father but sometimes it freaks me out he thrives off the pain. It’s hard for me to imagen this spy novel reading gentle man as one so cruel to live off of it.

My mom turns and asks, “How many eggs do you want dear?”

My mother has her auburn hair in loose curls, a violet dress shirt and a grey tight skirt on as she wears black manageable heels. Her wrist jingles with the golden bracelets. My mother’s is a more traditional demon, one who lives off of the original seven deadly sins; greed. The greed of humans in the court house is immense; lawyers praying off of the weak and criminals striving to get the deal and freedom they don’t deserve. It’s an all you can have buffet. Her tick is her fangs, however in her words, ‘you cover your body with enough pretty things and show them the treasure that you are; humans and others tend to miss the danger behind the pretty face.’

Relating to the Heathers, that sentence has never been truer. I have to admit all of them are beautiful and deadly. However, Heather Chandler lets others know of her power but they only see her pretty face and perfect tits to ignore the thing that she really is, a killer. She’ll rip your still bleeding heart out as she smiles at you with her piercing silver eyes and a wide white smile.

“Veronica?” I snap my head to my mother. She starts to whisk the eggs in the bowl. “I asked how many eggs you wanted? Or are you not going to eat before you have school?”

My father sets down the newspaper, “Now Marla, Veronica got into quite the tussle last week,” wait, last week? ”, and she might not be feeling like going to school.” My mom turns to look at me and her gaze lingers on my forearms. She pierces her lips in thought.

“Last week?” I croak out, my voice raspy from the lack of use. My parents share another glance and points down at a seat.

“Take a chair, sweetie.” I do it automatically as I wait for their answer. My father folds the paper in half and turns to me in his chair, the wood squeaking.

“What’s the last thing you remember kiddo?”

My mother walks over and gently sets my father’s food-filled plate in front of him, steam coming from the hot meal. She walks behind and sets her hands in his shoulders, he brings a hand up to grab her hand.

“Well, I remember fighting Jacob Mathews and um,” I struggle as I was mostly trying to not vomit from the pain or panic about staying alive. My vision and thoughts blurred and rushed. Mostly acting not really thinking. “Then he came at me and I hit him. He fell bleeding, I think he was bleeding? From his face h-his nose? Their...it...was stained red, so I assume he was bleeding, unless it was from me, but my skin was burnt so the wounds were cauterized.” My mother tightens her hands as my dad’s expression doesn’t change. “But then I kicked him, yah know have to fight dirty. Kick the man while he was down.” I laugh uncomfortably as my parents both wear stern expressions. I hide my nerves by changing it to a slight cough and clear my throat. “And I don’t remember anything else expect the shearing pain and a ringing in my ears. Next thing I know is I wake up here.”

 My parents are quiet and so is the room except the slight pounding of my heart and the croaking of the coffee pot. The aroma of the food tempting as my stomach growls and tightens in reminder. I drill my fingers on the table, as I wait for their reply.

“I should go talk with Jacob’s mother about his behavior and to the school for letting it carry this far.” My mother rushes over and kisses me on the head before going back to her cooking. I can feel her pain and anger and worry as she starts to stress cook. My father huffs, indicating this is an old fight.

“Honey, you know we can’t do anything about that. When we picked up Veronica from the school, they told us there were complications,” My mother humphs angrily as she pours the egg yolk in the pan,” and that Jacob was just being too aggressive as all top Dome fighters are. They will punish him, and Veronica will be taking a break from Dome training,” I will? Thank god. At least one thing good thing came out of this. “...until she heals.” Never mind, I sigh. I rest my head in my palm. My mother adds cheese and peppers to my egg.

“Well maybe they should have a proper system for the fights.” My father sighs once again, and I watch as he takes a long drag out of his cup.

“Betty did say they have a new computer system and the school said they would work out the bugs,” My father replies.

My mother turns around and bare her fangs,” Bugs?! Bugs?!”

She points the spatula to my dad, “Our daughter got hurt and all you can say is what those idiots told us? She had second and third degree burns all up her arms and worse on her back, Robert! She might have severe damage to her arms and not to mention her...,” she pauses and whispers,” wings.”

I flinch as I stop drilling my fingers, my kitchen becomes a tense silence. My wings are a taboo subject. My parents both don’t discourage my wings, but they don’t necessarily like them either. Out of respect I always keep them tucked up and out of sight. I bite my lip as I tuck my head in, not sure if I should say anything. They might be relived or disappointed if I go; hey funny story, I’m all healed cause Martha is a rare demon with healing abilities and my wings are good too. So, your freak daughter can still fly and be all powerless demon. Okay? Okay, thanks for the eggs but I gotta run.

My dad picks up the paper and ignores my mother as she stands there with tears in her eyes and my stomach drops guiltily. He starts to read again and picks up a piece of toast.

“How are your wounds? The school nurse and Martha tried their best to get them healed,” my father says around his food.

 Funny thing about demons, we don’t really have doctors or the ones that heal are reserved for top demons and Dome fights. Too expensive to pay for their services or their price to great. Demons love back stabbing deals. And human and angel healers won’t go a hundred feet or touch a demon. The humans also don’t know enough of our kind to be any help even if threatened, most likely.

I put my arms in my lap and pull up the sleeves to cover the bandages, “Oh, they don’t even hurt that bad.” My mom drops my plate in front of me and kisses my head.

“My brave baby.” I awkwardly smile at her, “You eat up okay? You can get a ride with us to school if you feel like it.” She turns to make herself something and I grab the fork and start to shovel in food as I feel my stomach twist in guilt. Yeah maybe I should go to school today.

…

 

I feel my soul leave my body as I feel a mass wrap their arms- well what I hope are arms, around me. I turn with startled eyes to see the dirty blonde mop of Martha. I am graced with her familiar warm scent of honey suckle and fabric softener. I chuckle as I feel my heartrate slowly decrease back to normal, I return the hug.

I’m jumpy, my instincts are telling me that I have a target on my back. I feel like I need to be on guard.

"Well hello to you too, but maybe next time you won't give me a heart attack in greeting?"

She looks up with tears in her eyes, I feel my heart fall as concern overcomes me to see the watery grey eyes of my dear friend. I tighten my hug, as my protective instincts flare. She hides her face in my shirt as she gently hugs me, arms closer to my hips then back. I use my hand to gently tilt her head back up. I bounce my sight between her two eyes.

"Hey what's wrong?"

She shakes her head and brings her hand up to wipe away a streaking tear. Her nose and cheeks turning a slight red as she shoves her face back in, and I realize that she's trembling. My concern doubles as I look down at her worried. What happened? Martha is wearing her infamous unicorn pink sweater-that I should've recognize immediately, with blue jeans and pair of white vans. I feel her shake and I tighten my grip and I feel her grab at my black shirt.

"Well if I live and breathe, my bitch is back," a surprised voice speaks.

I look up to see Betty as she looks me up and down, scanning for my injuries. I notice that there is a slight worried as she looks me over. Her posture is lax, but I notice the tense muscles in her shoulders. Her hip popped out as she rests her hand on it. She is wearing knee high converse with a skater skirt, and white t-shirt with bright lips spitting out some sort of blue liquid- her favorite rock band- _Death by Drainer Cleaner._ Her pixie cut hair is jelled up and her cat eyes hiding behind dark makeup and thick glasses.

I smirk as I push away my concern for a moment as I reply, "Yeah, well someone had to keep you out of trouble."

Betty pauses her scan and scoffs as she walks over and coolly leans against the lockers, her tail brushes my hand and I smile as she seemingly uncaring looks at her shoes.

"Good luck with that, Ronnie. Glad to have you back.”

I smile and I slowly uncurl my arms and Martha get the message as she lets go. I grab her shoulders and wipe away a few leftover tears. She grabs onto my sleeves. I look around to see the student body ignore us as they collect their books, or hangout by their own lockers as they wait till the last minute to make their way to class. Good, no one as noticed us yet.

I frown, “I would say good to be back but,” I turn and my stomach tightens as I feel like I’m being hunted,”...why do I have the feeling the rest of our peers aren’t as happy to see me or us?”

Betty frowns as she tracts her claws out, “Probably has to do with the rumors about you kicking Mathews ass in the ring. Some say you died,” Martha’s hold tightens on my shirt,” others say how you knocked him out cold not a scratch. Either way the country kids have been up lesser demons’ asses all last week and probably this week.”

I furrow my brows. I’ve been so self-absorbed about my own injuries that I didn’t even bother to think about what my actions caused for these two.

“What about you guys? Did they-”

“No,” Betty interrupts me,  “Top bitch threat still holds good. No one bother us while you were out.” Well at least that good. I guess I’m done with the Heathers.

Betty rolls her eyes, “However, her “claim” on us was last week. So, I guess we’re fair game again or whatever.” She shrugs her shoulders. Shit, that’s not good. I turn my attention to my shaking friend.

"Hey Martha, you okay?" She shakes her head as she tries to keep herself from crying further. Her lip trembles and my heart breaks. Betty even offers comfort by wrapping her tail around her wrist. I look up and she glances at me in worry.

"I-I'm so so ss-orry Veronica."

I furrow my brows in confusion as Martha leaks more tears, I step forward and rewrap my arms around her, I rest my cheek on the top of her head. I want to take her away from whatever or whoever is boring her and wrap my wings protectively around us- shielding us from the world.

"Sorry for what?"

Martha sniffles and I ignore as I feel my shirt grow wet with tears and snots. Betty awkwardly pats Martha on the back as she tries to maintain her cool persona. It makes me smile. She's always been terrible with comforting someone, it's sometimes quite funny to see the opposite overly emotional Martha and cool sarcastic Betty interact. She mumbles something into my chest, and I frown not catching it. I look up to Betty, who shrugs in return.

"Marth, can you say that again?"

She picks up her head, and her eyes are pink. Her eyes and nose both running with bodily fluids. Her cheeks and nose now fully flush as she looks up to me with pure guilt. She looks down and gently grabs my forearm and rubs her thumb on it.

"I'm sorry for not healing you," wait what?, "...you were really hurt and I had an opportunity to b-but I didn't cause I-" she burst into tears as my head tries to wrap around the information and I shake her slightly.

"Woah, woah Martha. What do you mean you didn't heal me?" She stops and wipes her nose. Betty picks her head and tilts it now paying attention to us more strictly.

"Y-you were in the nurse’s office, laying near Jacob. Betty suggested that I healed you and pass it onto him but..." she tilts her head towards her chest, bangs covering my view of her, "...I couldn't do it. I said you won't want me to, but I s-selfishly didn't want to hurt anyone." She looks up and grabs onto my shirt and pleads with me, "But Ronnie when you didn't return to school last week and I was so worried."

Betty steps forward, "We were both worried."

Martha shakes her head in agreement, "I'm so sorry, you must have been in so much pain." She pauses and gasps as she lets go and awkwardly flays her arms, "you still must be in pain." I grab her arms, I push away my thoughts as

"Actually, I'm fine, but what do you mean you didn’t heal me?" If Martha didn’t heal me what the heck did?

"What do you mean you're fine? Mathews the asshole turned you into his personal flame starter,” Betty asks as her tail uncurls around Martha and takes it’s normal position curled around her waist like a belt. I sigh as I shut my locker, a picture of all three of us from our first band performance hanging. Along with the Skyball meets scheduled.

"I know, I know, trust me I felt it but I'm," I look around to make sure no country asshole is nearby. I whisper and squeeze Martha’s hand in comfort, "I'm seriously okay. I'm just really confused and although a little concerned because I thought Martha healed me."

"Why would you think that?" She asks as she dries the rest of the tears away. I roll up my sleeve and take off my bandage careful to keep it out of view. Martha gasps as she takes my arm, turning it so she can exam the new tan skin. Not burned like an over cooked marshmallow.

"Holy shit," Betty whispers as she steps forward, eyes wide.

"See?" I smile encouragingly, hoping to calm Martha's guilt, "I'm okay."

I am surprised to find as Betty hurriedly rips down my sleeve and she hisses, “Are you crazy?!"

She looks around and pierces me with her predator gaze, "Ronnie you know what this means?"

I shrug, and I yelp as she hits me, "ow!" Martha looks to Betty with a startled look.

"This means you have...," she leans forward and whispers excitedly, "it means you have powers bitch!" Both mine and Martha’s eyes widen at that.

My stomach drops, "I dunno Betty." I don’t have any other powers except my wings, but you can never know that. I can’t have any other powers, right?

"Aw come on, Ronnie! This is awesome news!" She smiles, fangs flashing as she looks to me excitedly but all I feel is dread. Other powers? Why now?

Martha looks at me for a long time, as I stand there uncomfortably as Betty smirks at me. "I think Veronica is unsure how to take it Betty. Perhaps we should let her rest, I mean she did just walk out of a fight and-"

"Yeah with one of the powerful assholes and won!" She punches me and I hit the lockers. Others look at us questioningly, a few gazes linger on me. But I ignore them, what does this mean?

Wait, I won?

"It was a draw," wait it was called a draw? I feel a tad disappointed that I didn’t kick Jacobs ass, well at least I made him bleed. "...Ronnie needs rest Betty, come on we need to go to class."

I blink surprised at Martha’s uncharacteristic crude way to detour Betty’s excitement to my new “powers”. I scoff I don’t have new powers- a bubble of uncertainty.

I don’t...

Right?

I numbly allow myself to get pulled away by Martha and we pass a bathroom. Maybe, a splash of cold water will help me. I stop as Martha turns to me questioningly. I open the door and numbly say, “Catch you later, Martha?”

She nods and I walk in to see the bathroom already occupied. By non-other than the Heathers’.

“Shit,” I whisper.

I forgot that they claimed this bathroom. Why wasn’t I paying more attention? Oh, right the fact of _who the fuck healed me._

I look up to see the annoyed face of Chandler. Her mouth is pierced as she gazes my form. She’s probably happy I got my ass kicked. She raises one of her perfect red brows as she studies me calculatingly. I feel my heart pump with adrenaline. She puts a hand on her hip,” Can we help you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you guys were in here.”

Must be nice to run the school. No one bothering you and you get to do whatever you want. Wait, I hesitate as I hold the door open, no one bothers the Heathers. I turn and look at them. Chandler looks at me, but it doesn’t seem to be threatening, the other two are watching me with different ways; one curious and the other disinterested. They don’t have to worry about the country kids, perhaps they can help me.

I lick my lips hoping I’m not about to make a huge mistake, “I crave a boon.” 


	7. Chapter 7 It’s all Gucci

**Veronica POV**

As I sit in class trying to write the notes on the board, I feel someone kick my seat, again. I tighten my grip on my pencil trying to ignore them when I feel my desk move from the power of the kick to the metal basket, under my seat. The motion making an awful scrapping noise that makes me flinch, my muscles so tense I’m surprised they haven’t snapped. I sigh as I try to write out the history of the Louisiana purchase when my desk moves, causing my pen to fly across my page- cutting through my notes.

I turn around and hiss, “Would you stop that?!”

Chandler looks up from filling her nails, her face screams ‘how dare you interrupt me.’ The sunlight reflecting off of her pristine ponytail, making it shine like a new copper penny. Her white flowy top stooping two inches above her pants line- showing off her pale lean figure. I’m surprised the boys behind her haven’t broken out in nosebleeds or their dicks haven’t busted through their pants by their obvious ogling at the showing skin.

“I don’t know. Would you stop shaking your leg like an idiot?”

I glare as she glares back, after a moment of tense silence I slouch back down and huff in defeat. God, maybe I made a mistake.

I look across the aisle to see Heather McNamara doodle in her notebook- I’m surprised to see how good it is and how morbid. It’s a black scribbled person with round white eyes crying crocodile tears and pointed fingers reaching as its mouth opens in a wail.

I lean down to rest my chin on my arms, I think about how she kindly; turned my knotty messy into a more styled curls under my beanie. Then her and Chandler did my makeup as Duke went off somewhere. They only did a light round of mascara and blush as not having their usual arsenal with them. Duke came back to whisper something to Heather who frowned in disappointment.

The teacher drawls on and I go back to watching yellow Heather draw. Huh, she’s pretty good. I wonder how I didn’t know this sooner. I blink, wait a minute.

“McNamara?” I whisper.

She stops and looks up to me, her honey hazel eyes shining with warmth. Her hair stopping in blonde springs at her shoulders, her cheeks rounder and freckled causing her to have an innocent look.

“You can call me Mac, Veronica,” she offers.

“Okay. Mac.”’ I say testing it out, “Were you in this class last week?” I rack my brain trying to remember if I saw them or not. She shrugs as she goes back to drawing.

“I mean technically no; we skipped.” I furrow my brows, skip? Like skip class?

“Wait, you skipped the whole week?” My mouth drops open in shock as she looks to me with a confused look. How did they not get in trouble?

“Yeah we can do that Sawyer. Plus, if you haven’t forgot, _you_ weren’t here either much of last week,” Chandler helpfully adds from behind me. I turn so I can face them both, I look over to the teacher who is oblivious to our conversation. I mean I get skipping every now and then but the first few days?

“Do you guys do that a lot?” Mac glances at Heather, who wears a superiority grin. She sets her nail filler down and shoots forward.

“What a nerd like you doesn’t skip?” Not if I don’t want to get into Harvard, Yale, or Duke. I try hard and try to do well in school- hell if I’ll die here in this hell hole of a town. I want to leave, go explore the world. But heck if I’ll let Heather make me feel anything less than a person.

“Of course, I do.” She rolls her eyes and scoffs.

“Dome shouldn’t count, I mean it’s the only class worth showing up for and you’re too much of a pussy to go.” I frown thinking of my recent fight. The phantom pain hits. I rub my forearm, causing them to draw their attention to the motion. I stop.

“Gee I wonder why,” I say sarcastically. Mac looks to Heather with a stern look as she continues to stare at my forearms.

“Well you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Don’t you get some time off from Dome class?” Mac offers, and I shoot her a grateful smile in which she returns. I turn and listen to the comfortable scratching of Mac’s pencils. I start to shake my leg in comfort to help with my anxiety and for some reason Chandler doesn’t kick my seat in signal to stop.

...

I go to follow the Heathers to their table when Chandler turns around and stops me by placing a finger on my chest. I look up confused. What’s the deal?

“You aren’t sitting with us today,” I open my mouth to argue that we had a deal when she cuts me a look that makes me shut my mouth. Duke and Mac stop to look back towards us and Chandler raises her hand to signal to them to continue. Mac throws me back a cautious glance as Duke rolls her eyes as they disappear into the crowd. I notice a few people from the surrounding tables are throwing us a few curious glances.

“Yeah, I know about our deal, but we couldn’t find anything at this school that would make you dressed less like trash.” Like what? Chandler continues,” So after school today I’ll pick you up at your house and we’ll take you to the mall to get you a more fashionable outfit. We just need to wait until Mac is done with practice. You can start off the rest week right, hanging out with us.” She smiles like she just offered me the best gift of my life.

I cross my arms and narrows my eyes, “Geeze Heather, why don’t you tell me how’s it is.” She raises a brow and I stop talking as I look away. “Fine, but what about the country kids?”

Her smile fades as a shadow looms over it, “Don’t worry about them.” She nods her head, “However, have fun eating at the loser table. Remember what I said about tonight.”

She walks away her charcoal skirt swaying, bring the attention of the male and some female population. I roll my eyes; great. I walk to get my food and I am bombarded by Betty as I sit at my table.

“Please tell me that I did not see you conversing with the Mythic Bitch.” I sigh, not wanting to fight with her. It’s been a long already exhausting day.

”Betty-“ She slams her hands on the table and sits up as she leans over the table looking down at me.

“I knew it!” I smash my fork down into my mash potatoes as I look to Martha, who pauses eating her pj sandwich as she looks to me. A small bit of peanut butter sits on the corner of her lip. Oh, Martha. I lean over and wipe it off with my thumb and I then suck it off. She smiles at me in thanks with slight pink cheeks.

“So what?” I ask. Betty sits down but continues to lean across the table.

“So what?” She hisses. She sits back and does a massive eye roll. “I don’t know Ronnie, maybe they are the top of the top assholes and you just happen to be having a civil conversation with Chandler. You know the number one Dome fighter?”

I stuff my mouth with fake potatoes and fake saltier gravy. “I dunno I think McNamara is a bottom.”

She looks to me and flares her nostrils. Martha looks to them and tilts her head thinking of my joke.

“Ha-ha smart ass.” I smirk around the food in my mouth, my cheeks rounder than usual. “But seriously what did she want?”

I lean forward and rest my face on my hand. I take another bite of this barley edible food. “Oh, I made a deal with them.” Martha turns back to me and Betty brows both raise. I look as they stare, waiting for me to continue.

“I asked to sit with them during lunch and for them to leave you guys alone, in exchange as many fake notes and passes that they wish.” I eat another bite, only to feel someone flick me in the forehead.

“Betty!” Martha chastises.

I move back startled as I look up to a sneering Betty. I rub my forehead at the sting, “ow.”

“Are you fucking insane?” She growls.

I roll my eyes looking to Martha for help, but she only looks at me in concern. Her fingers twitch and I wonder how much of a red mark, Betty left.

 “It’s not a big deal,” I argue.

Betty laughs, “Not a big deal?” She looks to Martha as she only offers an awkward smile, she laughs as she pounds her hand on the table in a fist. I furrow my brows not getting the joke. “No, skipping class isn’t a big deal. You failing a test isn’t a big deal. Us becoming a band group wasn’t even a big deal. However, you making a deal with the devil is.”

I roll my eyes, “Don’t be so extra.”

“No Veronica, you listen.” I shut my mouth with a glare. She returns it then sighs, tension leaving her shoulders, she leans on the table resting her head in her hand.

“Look Ronnie, they never bothered us before,” she stabs her plastic fork into her own vegetarian meal, “All that I know is, those three traffic lights, never talked to us- only bullied us when it suited them. Even then it was by their obedient servants,” she nods her head to the jock table where Kurt and Ram sit, “and that’s how life worked. Until you,” She points her fork at me, “decided to help them with the fake pass and then Jacob thing happened in the hall. And your knight in shining heels saved you, causing Jacob to get prissy and then he fucking almost killed you in the Dome. So, I blame them.” That doesn’t make any sense they had nothing to do with Mathews.

I sigh knowing I’m not going to change Betty’s opinion on it. “That’s why I’m doing it.” Betty looks at me confused.

“They never get bothered, the country kids even maintain a respectful distance so I figured if I sit with them then everyone will think they’ll tolerate me and then they’ll leave me alone. Plus, I got them to leave you guys alone two.” I look down and I can feel Betty’s eyes burn a hole in my head.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” She jeers as she angrily takes a bite of her meal.

I sigh, “Yeah, I’ve gathered that.”

“Martha can you please explain some sense to her?” Betty turns to Martha pleadingly. Martha eyes widen.

“Oh, um I-I don’t really know what to say,” she admits. She puts down her sandwich and starts to play with the plastic bag nervously. Martha has never liked conflict.

“How about she’s dumb?” Betty offers.

“Uh…well they haven’t been the nicest people-”

“Ha! See even Martha agrees!” Betty assured. She waves her hand towards Martha in an ‘see gesture’.

“You didn’t even let her say her own opinion! I argue. I sigh, “Listen Martha do you think that I should pull out of this deal? If you give me your honest opinion,” I look at Betty, “then I’ll step out.”

Martha pauses and thinks on her thoughts. Neither Betty nor I say a word or look at her. We know Martha does better without pressure, she’ll answer in her own time. I however see Betty throw Martha a few glances, “I think that…you should sit with them.”

“What?” Betty and I say simultaneously. I was not expecting that.

“Well you said that they’ll get the country kids to leave you alone right?” I nod as I look towards her disbelievingly. “Then you should do it,” she says quietly. “I don’t want you to get hurt by them again.”

“Martha are you serious?” Betty gasps.

“You asked for my opinion.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it, “I want Ronnie to stay safe.”

“I do too but I don’t think she has to go to the mega bitches to accomplish it!” Betty tries to convince her.

“I…are you sure?” I ask Martha.

“Yes,” she confirms to me. She looks up to me and smiles her grey eyes slightly dull.

The table goes silent as she goes back to her meal. Betty looks at me in bilious. I feel myself start to agree with her, I mean…I look over to their table. The sunlight seems to bend itself towards them. They all look amazing even royal-like as they eat their meals. Chandler is looking slight amused as Mac seems to be arguing over something with Duke. They’re in their own little world. One that’s better than ours, people looking at them in want. To be recognized by one of them; to be recognized by the many. To feel popular. I then look at my table…Betty my friend since kindergarten. Loyal, blunt, and trustworthy. Then Martha my friend since…diapers. Her kindness, thoughtfulness, and so positive about the world. I smile they make me feel at home. Do I really want to trade them in for that?

“By the way Ronnie I like your makeup,” Martha says. I blink out of my thoughts.

“Makeup? You weren’t wearing any earlier…when did you do it?” She leans closer, “It’s different from your normal style.”

I flinch, “The Heather’s did it.”

“They did a good job,” Martha offers with a smile. Betty stills as she keeps her face calm; she sighs as she shakes her head.

“Unbelievable. The littlest changes are what makes the biggest difference. You let them do your makeup Ronnie, next they’ll be asking for your clothes and then how to act. You’ll be prancing around like a show dog for them.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Let me know what size collar you wear, bitch.”

...

I hold the phone to my cheek as I lean back against my bed as I glance at the college broachers in my lap.

“I don’t know Martha. I’m kinda mad at Betty for what she said at lunch today.”

I hear as Martha walks into the other room as the tv gets softer, “Yeah what she said was kind of…harsh but that doesn’t mean you can’t hangout with us today?” She asks hopeful.

I sigh as I shut the paper closed. I shut my eyes as I think about the Heather’s. I mean it would be nice to hangout with them. I feel guilt as I think about me ditching Martha and Betty. I mean it wouldn’t hurt to not hangout with them for one night, right?

“I don’t know Marth. I mean I was going to research colleges and work on my portfolio,” I lie.

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so? I’m sure Betty will understand when she get’s here I’ll explain everything!” she says understandingly. My heart clenches at the guilt. Why does Martha have to be so nice?

“Thank you Marth-”

**_Hooooooooooooonnnnk_ **

I jump as someone leans on their horn right outside of my house.

“What is that?” Martha asks curiously.

I walk to my window and scowl as I notice the familiar red car with three colored girls.

“Oh, just some bitch. Ugh I’ll call you later.” I hang up and sprint down the stairs as my anger and embarrassment grow. Can’t she see that I live in a complex? What self-proclaimed asshole lays on the horn to get someone out of their house?

I stop my way to the vehicle and Chandler stops.

“There you are. You took forever,” Chandler complains. I feel my eyebrow twitch.

“What the hell was that?! I have neighbors!” I yell.

She rolls her eyes as Duke snickers. I shoot her a glare, as Mac at least has the decency to look a little ashamed.

“So? It got you out here didn’t it? Now get in.” She commands. I take a deep breath, so I don’t strangle her, and I walk around and rip the door open and slam it shut.

Chandler glares at me before slamming on the gas.

As I stew as I look out of the window a thought occurs, “Hey, how did you find out where I live?”

“Google,” she says as if I’m dumb.

I blink as her answer hits my brain, “You googled where I lived!?”

Chandler scoffed, “No, I didn’t dipshit,” she nods to Mac, “You and Mac rode the same bus, if you paid any attention. Now, shut up and be grateful I picked up your lame ass.”

…

I walk after the Heathers, their shoes making noise against the pavement. I frown as I look at the huge brick building, shining fluorescent signs of the biggest brands; Jc Penny, Macy’s, Victoria’s Secret, American Eagle, Nike, etc hanging on the side. I huff, I’ve always hated shopping- going with the three riches girls from school is just going to add a new level of torcher. Chandler makes her way to the spinning glass doors to the entrance. She grabs the horizontal handle and pushes the door. Duke and Mac stop as they wait for me, I raise my brow curious at the kind gesture until I realize that they didn’t. Duke snickers as she looks at Mac, Mac looks at the doors with a wounded puppy look and she watches begrudgingly as a man walks in. The glass doors spinning as he walks in; Duke pats her on the back.

“After you, Heather.” Mac turns to her with narrowed eyes, and she crosses her arms with a pout.

“No, you go first. I don’t want you to be mean again.” Duke snickers grows as she walks and looks back with a huge shit eating grin as she rotates the spinning doors. I look to Mac curiously as she seems to be collecting herself. I wonder what that’s all about.

“I hate this part,” she mumbles. My brows raise in surprise, hate what? She bounces with nervous energy, as she gears herself up and she charges with determination as she goes to the door and she pushes. I follow behind to find that she stops moving as she looks back with panicked eyes. She looks forward and I can hear a muffled chortle of Heather Duke.

I look through the smeared hand print covered glass to a smirking Duke and annoyed eye roll from Chandler. Mac breaths start to increase as she fogs up the glass as she puts her hands on it. She puts her hands up and down in a rapid motion, much like a mime in an invisible box.

“Heather?” I ask, “What’s wrong?” She pounds on the glass, causing the doors to vibrate. Chandler pinches her nose and mumbles as Duke watches on in glee.

“I-I always get stuck in these things!?” She says in growing panic. I look to see her face, her eyes wide as her cheeks turn pink with frustration or embarrassment. She grabs the handle and shakes the door front and back.

“Just keep pushing okay?” I gently push my door causing the entire thing to move, she stumbles forward and with the free space Mac bolts forward into freedom. I follow as Duke lightly punches her on the shoulder with barely concealed mirth.

“You got out faster this time!” I frown. This time? Wait, I look back to the rotating doors, they just let her stay stuck in them?

“Come on, were wasting time,” Chandler commands. I look back to their retreating forms. How big of bitches are they? I follow them into a store. I look around to see purses, ties, belts, and even shoes on separate glass cases. Theirs leather seats out and what seems to be real marble tops for the cash register. I blink in shock; this store is really fancy. Chandler turns to me, Duke and Mac seemingly disappeared. I look up with a startled look as she looks down with a bored expression.

“Do you like Gucci?” I blink. Gucci? I shrug causing her to frown.

“I mean I don’t know. Isn’t that just slang for good?” She blinks at me and snorts before she raises a brow.

“Oh, you’re serious.” I look around wondering what I didn’t pick up. She looks me up and down.

“That would explain why you can’t accessorize worth shit.” I frown, rude. “But come on let’s see if anything in here can catch your eye.”

I follow Heather around, I notice that the store has white fancy steps going up to different levels, everything pristine and new. I’ve never been in anything this...clean before. Even the people working here wear suits, ties and look more like lawyers or someone that should be shopping here instead of working retail. 

“How about this?”

I turn my attention back to Chandler as she holds out a purple dress shirt. It cuts down in a V with flowy sections and is honestly to prissy to be something of my taste. But if it’ll only be one day of hanging with them; fine. I feel the material, surprise at the soft texture and I catch the price tag and my stomach drops. I rip my hand back, afraid to ruin the outrageously expensive shirt. That’s like four years of my allowance. I swallow, my throat seemingly dry.

“Not really my taste.”

Chandler looks at the shirt with a calculating gaze. She runs the material through her fingers as she puts it back on the rack.

“I assumed not but you tend to stick to darker colors.”

I’m surprised that she paid attention to that, I mean I don’t keep it a secret but for her to even notice. I nod, following her to another section. Knowing, the price of the simple shirt has made me scared to even touch anything else, so I put my fingers in my jeans and pretend that I could care less. Which isn’t that hard to do.

After an hour of useless shopping I’ve decided this trip is a waste of my time, I can tell that after the thirty or maybe hundredth shirt that I’ve denied, Chandler is also starting to get irritated. She slams back down the gray shirt that I wouldn’t be caught in. She turns her body towards mine and puts her hand on her hips and stares me down.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I look up and stare at her in the eyes uninfected by her words. Boredom and irritation and the want to fucking leave, makes me less rational. “You haven’t even bothered to look at the last ten shirts and you act like I’m ripping out your nails.”

She turns back to the rack and I huff, “That would be less painful.”

She freezes and pierces me with her eyes, “Excuse me?”

Oh, shit.

I look to see the two workers talk to one another- they’ve been eyeing me; probably knowing I don’t shop at places like this. I wonder if they would mind Chandler murdering me. I glance around hopping to see a flash of green or yellow- no Duke or Mac to possibly save me in sight. Where the fuck did, they go? How big even is this store? To be honest, Duke would enjoy seeing me dead and Mac would just watch in horror-but she wouldn’t care. Chandler steps forward, drawing me back to her.

“I’m just saying if you haven’t noticed Chandler, I don’t really shop here-“

“No, shit.” I narrow my eyes, not enjoying that she cut me off. I sigh and close my eyes to gather what’s left of my patience. I put my hands in my pockets as I look down.

“I don’t have the money,” I admit. I look up and look around at this overzealous store. It makes sense for people like Heather to shop here; she has money to burn. But me? I look down at my ripped jeans and plan long sleeve with a red beanie I bought at the dollar store. I feel uncomfortable and a little ashamed to be here. I know I don’t fit in here. Chandler stares at me for a while and I pretend to not be bothered by her gaze. She turns and shuffles threw the shirts, glancing at them then moving on to the next, seemingly the previous item to not be worthy.

“I figured that much, that’s why I’m paying for you,” she says casually as she pulls off a black dress shirt with tiny Daisy’s covering it.

“What?” I ask shocked. There’s no way I heard that correctly, right? Heather Chandler, Demon Queen of high school buying me clothes? No way.

She intently stares at the material, “Of course I am; I mean after all there’s no way you can afford anything in here,” Okay wow. Bitchy but true, “and I refuse to let you sit with us unless you look the part.”

I snort, “Look the part? Part of what “the Heathers”?” I ask as I bring up my fingers for quotations.

Chandler turns to me, her red locks hitting me in the face as she narrows her eyes. Her black mascara and grey eyeshadow making her silver irises pop. I get the faint scent of roses and something else.

“Exactly.”

 She trusts the shirt towards me, and I catch it and hold it awkwardly as she walks away, “Come on, we need more than one shirt to make you look good enough to be seen with us.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait. What do you mean more than one? Heather-”

I shut my mouth as she holds up her hand in a silent order to be quiet. She turns and grabs my chin.

“Okay Sawyer. Listen up and listen good; I’m only going to say this once.” She pauses and I look at her face as she leans down, “I can buy you as many shirts, dresses, shoes hell even a fucking car, if I give a shit, that I want. You are going to say nothing to me, except maybe thank you or geeze Heather you’re like fucking Mother Terssa with all this generosity. Okay? Stop putting a corkscrew up you ass and deal with it.” She pushed me back and returns into the clothes.

I swallow as I stand there stunned as she throws another shirt at me. I sigh as the pile grows in my hands. I feel my stomach clench as I can only hope that the cost for all of these are less then my life.

….

**Chandler POV**

I stand against the wall as Veronica tries on the several outfits that I picked out for her. Scrolling through my phone in boredom as I look at the post of my fellow classmates as they try to outdo each other with their ‘exciting’ lives. How very.

I stop in interest as I get an update on the Dome board. The school’s fights are trashy and are a disgrace. They shouldn’t even make us try something so pathetic after all the real fights are in the WDM. The World Dome Matches. Now those are fights. I have seasoned box tickets due to my father holding ownership of the sport. However, even as bad as they are it is fun and one of the only things, I bother to give attention to in school.

 ** _Carmella: 58    Dearg-Due: 34_**  

I smirk as I feel my phone vibrate again as my bet on the match goes to my account. I slide the phone into my back pocket. Today’s a good day. I mean I got the Sawyer girl to follow my plan and my calculations were right in the match today.

“See there’s Heather. Told you she didn’t go to a different store,” I hear Mac say as I look up to see her carry a few bags as Duke follows her with her hands in her pockets.

 “Didn’t find anything?” I ask as I look at her empty hands. She looks at me in the eyes with an annoyed expression.

“No.”

I frown and feel a familiar irritation from past fights bubble up but before I can say anything the curtains open with a swish. I look over and my eyes widen slightly. The white romper with little sunflowers on it pales in comparison to her tanned skin. The outfit makes her brown hair and eyes pop. I miss the ticked eyebrow and slight pout of the annoyed girl. She looks…good.

“Wow Veronica! You look great!” Mac says as she bounces forward. The girl frowns as she looks down and ponders.

“I guess it’s alright…it’s not really my taste.”

“Aw but you look so cute!” Mac pouts. Sawyer blinks and a brush of pink graces her cheeks. I frown as I watch the interaction.

“Of course, she looks good. After all I pick out the outfit.” I answer as I cross my arms looking at Mac with a raised brow.

“Yeah but that’s not really her,” Duke says. I whip my head towards her.

“Shut up, Heather! She isn’t supposed to look like herself! She’s supposed to look _better,_ ” I hiss. I miss the frowns that Veronica and Mac both display. One more hurt than the other. Duke glares back at me and I ignore the awkward silence.

“I guess, I’ll try another outfit.” Veronica retreats into the room. I step forward to Duke.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“What? I’m not allowed to voice my opinions?” Duke challenges. I narrow my eyes as I stand toe to toe with her.

“Not when it undermines mine.” We stand there, neither refusing to look away. Mac watches us in nervousness as her eyes flicker between. 

“Sorry, Heather,” Duke relents as she steps back. Satisfied I step back only to feel my phone vibrate I pull it out.

**MEET ME, IN AN HOUR.**

Fuck.  

…

**Duke POV**

I use the tip of my toes to push off the wall, the swinging motion bringing me comfort, the room is warm and my music blaring in my headphones; a comfortable background noise as I get absorb in my book. The chair cozy with soft blankets and pillows. In my loneliness my hunger is easier to ignore; no temptations to drain. I am unsure how long I read but when the door swings open to a storming Heather, the light coming from the window is significantly dimmer.

I look up and frown at her disheveled appearance. Her red ponytail has strands pulled out and baby hairs sticking all over the place, soot and blood smeared across her cheeks and staining her clothes. Her lip is split, and her outfit ripped. Her white shirt ruined. Her eyes are slightly pink and irises red- tell tell sign that she’s upset. I slowly put my book down and pull my headphones out.

I have a hunch of what happened to her. I watch as she paces her room, over the marble floors and usual white carpet. I sit up and wait for her to cool off. Her brows furrowed in a scowl as she glares at the carpet, her hands dripping blood from her closing them into fists so hard. I’m assuming she’s her claws are descended and she’s using the pain as a walking stick.

She snarls and turns to her vanity and knocks everything off. I don’t flinch- not anymore as expensive glass perfume bottles break and scatter on the floor. Metal jewelry holders with fancy necklaces, photo portraits, makeup all land clanking on the marble. Other various nick knacks roll and break. Chandler leans forward heaving as she grips the wood. Her hair covering her face as she tries to rein herself under control.

I watch and wait. I slide down to get a more comfortable seat as her breaths start to slow, she looks up with hatred at her reflection. Tears staying stubbornly in her eyes, ever the dead cold bitch. I understand that, the need to control yourself, control your emotions even when you want to scream and cry and lose yourself as the world crumbles around you. The control of yourself- your emotions; how you come off to others, your image...the things you can trick yourself into having control becomes like a drug. The popularity, parties, drinking, sex all of it meaningless unless you have control.

Her focus finally pin points to me and I continue, back, forth, back, forth, back, forth. She snarls as she turns; she runs her hand over her hair- trying to smooth it down. Having a persona of being cool and collected. It won’t work- not for me. She still tries even if we both know the truth.

“What are you doing here?” I sigh, I guess I’ll play along with her game. I put a finger on my page and close the book as I hold it up for her to see the cover.

“I was finishing this up. What about you?” She gazes at the bright yellow cover before she crosses the room, shoes crunching on the broken glass. She reaches her ridiculously big bed, plops down as collected as a queen before her subjects.

“I was busy with things that are none of your concern.” She looks down to pick the dried blood off of her nails. I stare at her lip- the blood dried and it’s already starting to purple. I know by tomorrow it will be a tiny little cut-barley there; she is gifted not only with indestructible skin with super human senses and strength but super healing abilities as well.

Lucky bitch, what I would give for that.

My stomach grumbles and I ignore it like always. She glances down and I move the book to cover up my stomach, her eyes narrowed.

“When’s the last time you ate?” When Heather and I are alone she allows herself to become the tiniest bit softer, more human. More like me.

“When’s the last time you said no?” I retort; my eyes flare green- not for hunger for once but for an old anger. The same fight that we’ve been dancing ever since we were neonates. She narrows her eyes and I notice her one hand curls into a fist.

“Shut up, Heather,” she growls. I refuse to apologize, it’s the one thing that I never will.

“When did you last eat?” She asks me again. I roll my eyes and lean back; Mac is bad enough, but Chandler only talks about one type of hunger. The one hunger that will refuse to go away- my inner demon.

If only I was gifted like them.

They are full demonesses, they had training and I glance at her bleeding, healing wounds, perhaps I’m kinda blessed by that. However, I wish I had the control that came with it. Contrary to popular belief of us Heathers being pure blooded, I’m not. I’m mostly human with a sliver of demon blood, my great great grandmother really fucked me over.

I look as Chandler frowns as she flicks her wrist, I notice her barley their flinch. I sigh and stand up, throwing the book on the chair. I walk over and grab her hand, she pulls it out of my grip.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” She hisses. I huff and turn as I walk to her private bathroom; I used the tiniest sliver of my power to taste her pain and hurt. I walk in and turn on the cold water and run a towel under it. After I’m satisfied with it, I return to the skeptical princess.

I hold out my hand, “Give.”

She looks at the dripping towel in doubt. Jesus Christ, I roll my eyes and grab the nearest hand. She tries to pull back, but I tighten my grip, I might not be as strong as her, but I refuse to let her win without a fight.

“Will you fucking hold still? I’m trying to help,” I say. I hold the wet cold rag out prepared to use it. It’s not what I’d like to work with but it’s the most she’ll let me do. 

She scoffs, “Right. When have you ever been nice?” I tighten my grip and pull as I lean forward, forcing her to look into my eyes.

“Damn it Heather, I’m not a total bitch. You’re pretending to care about me today, so I’ll do the same.” She stares off into my eyes and finally she relents with a gritted out,

“Fine.” She relaxes a minuscule and I huff as I start to use the rag to clean off the blood from her already healed hand. We stay in silence, my blasting music from my headphones hanging around my neck in the background. After cleaning her hand, I bend it only to feel Heather twitch. I look up and she stubbornly keeps her face black. I use my fingertips to check for the swelling. She has minor swelling, no forming contusions, by judgment of the range of motion she strained it. Her healing factor should correct the damage by morning. I am used to checking and caring for wounds since I heal at a very slow pace...sometimes.

I let go of her hand, moving to her face. She glances down at the cloth in disgust before I grab her face and hold it to me. I dab her lip.

“Fucking hell!” She hisses pulling back. She glares at me as she hides the wound behind her hand. Her other one held up, ready to stop me from trying that again.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” I order as I try again. I lean forward, when she grabs my hand and I pull back. She fights against me and I growl out in frustration. I try to retain myself from hitting her or using this moment to feed of the weak prey.

“Stay still or I’ll make you stay still,” I threaten. Chandler dislikes it when I use my power on her- I make her weak. I make her less powerful and she hates it. I am a threat to her position.

“Oh, you would like that wouldn’t you?” She snarls. I pull back, angered by her words. I tighten my grip around the towel half tempted to hit her with it, knowing it would sting. I toss it onto her lap, she jumps as it lands on her legs.

“No, I would never,” I say calmly. Her eyes turn back to silver as I turn to go back to my own bed. I stomp over to collect my stuff. I hate my powers, the constant pain, the need to feed.

When a demon doesn’t use or give into their own powers, their demon tends to turn in on themselves. That’s why my body betrays me because I refuse to feed so as punishment it causes me to become so sick, I vomit up my physical meals. That’s why most demons collect souls, if they don’t want to torture someone, they’ll used the collected soul to content their abilities. They themselves will be safe.

I feed off of others. My humanness makes me weaker- more susceptible and unable to fight my powers like Mac does to hers. We both dislike our powers unlike Chandler- who will never understand. Mac can last longer and often punishes herself when she uses her powers. That’s a part why she wants to be my personal food source. It angers me that she does that; her and Chandler are the most tempting ones I’m around. As the closest people I consider as…friends. I don’t want to kill them.

I snatch up the book and I refuse to look at her, as I carefully avoid the mess on her floor. I go to open her door, when her voice makes me pause.

“I-I...,” She pauses and huffs, “I’ll stay still or whatever.” I turn to see her looking down at the wet cloth in her hands. It’s the closest thing I’ve gotten to an ‘I’m sorry’ in a while. She must really feel beaten up, emotionally not just physically. I look at the white wooden door, half tempted to leave but- fuck her.

I let go of the cool brass knob and make my way over to her. I throw the book near my chair and she looks up because of the slapping noise as it hits the chair. I grab the rag as I wait. She hesitates before tilting her face up to me and I go to reclean the cut. I work on the dry blood, she stays still as I’m sure it’s sore. I feel my eyes glow and I want to go down and drain the person that did this.

“Why do you-“

“Don’t,” she cuts me off harshly. Me and my demon have a rare moment off agreement as we snarl at her.

“But-“

“I said don’t Heather!” She looks up to me and I stop. I see fear in her eyes, maybe for only a second and my stomach drops. I haven’t seen her scared in a very very long time. That bastard. It’s the only thing that makes me stop from arguing with her. I bit my tongue as I let myself focus on her wounds.

She closes her eyes, letting herself being taken care of. She has this giant house, money to throw away towards anything, the hottest car, and latest clothes. Thrones of lovers- yet she has nothing. The Heather Chandler that I have the grace to know that many don’t, has little that’s real.

“I shouldn’t have…I…you…” I pause in my cleaning as she struggles voicing. “I do listen when you talk. I just don’t always listen to what you say.”

I raise my brow as I finish cleaning the blood on her chin. “That makes no sense.”

She glares at me before sighing, her hands clench the comforter in frustration, “I’m not good at this.” My eyes soften at her effort and my shoulders relax at her more open persona.

“So whats up with you and little miss nobody?” I ask. Mainly to offer her a change in conversation but also for my curiosity. Chandler seemed almost happy after the deal that she made and seemed exited? She even tolerated Mac’s terrible taste in music for the car ride to the mall. I remember as she kept glancing back in the mirror to Veronica as the girl looked out of the car, sitting next to me in the back.

“What do you mean? I already told you the plan.” She raises a brow in question. Eyes still closed as she sits there. I hesitate to look for any sign of falsehood.

“Please. Knowing you, you always have an underlying meaning to something. So, care to share?” I ask.

Many people think she is an idiot because she’s pretty, I admit begrudgingly, but Chandler’s red hair has always reminded me of a Fox. Yeah, she’s a vixen some say, but for me it’s cause she’s a clever trickster. She makes you look one way when she is doing something else that you don’t notice until it’s too late.

“I don’t,” she opens her eyes. I see the amusement of her knowing something that I don’t. How, annoying.

“I don’t believe you,” I state. Heather ignores me as she lets me continue my care. I think about Veronica; yeah, I used to be friends with her, but I can’t remember anything that’s useful. She had no powers then and still doesn’t- unless she’s starting to show them. But why now? What is she hiding? I look to Chandler. Does she know something the rest of us don’t?

“I mean why her? Why not her little cat friend? Get Ready Betty? At least we know she has powers.”

Chandler lip curls in disapproval, “Absolutely not, we can’t accept that skank.”

I blink, I know Chandler is a little touchy with the other lust demon. Something about how she’s a degrade to other demons with the sameness power?

“Why not? That position already filled?” I challenge. One of my favorite hobbies is annoying Chandler, her hot-headed temperament makes it too easy sometimes.

“Why jealous Heather?” She counters. I purse my lips, not sure what exactly she means by that but I’m sure it’s an insult. “Aw, quiet? You haven’t gotten any dick lately?”

I roll my eyes, of course that’s what she’s meant. My powers don’t exactly let my love life workout. Not unless they want to end up dead if I lose control. Which is highly likely. But I’m not really interested in having one anyways so I guess it’s a win/win.

“Why did you buy her all that clothes?” I try to push the subject away. She raises a brow realizing what I just did.

“We can’t possibly let her sit with us with what she was wearing, and she can’t afford it,” She humors me. “Why didn’t _you_ get anything, Heather?”

I sigh, “You already know the answer.”

“Yeah, but as I’ve already said I don’t care.” She turns her head to look out the window, “besides it’s not even my money that you’d be spending.”

I know this but I don’t like using her. It makes me feel like charity and she already does so much. I hate how I feel like I owe her. She looks down at her shirt and frowns as she curls her lip in disgust at the stains. I think it’s funny as much as Heather loves spilling blood she hates when it marks or gets on her.

“By God,” I fake gasp, “That makes you sounds almost generous,” I put the back of my hand on her forehead, “You feeling okay? No memory loss? Headaches? Vomiting?”

“Bitch.” She tells me as she rolls her eyes. But I see a hint of a smile.

“Okay so you’re normal. Well as normal as a bitch like you can be.” I say, kinda teasing. Chandler looks to me before crossing her arms and flipping her ponytail.

“You’re just jealous.” She argues. She blinks at me as innocently as she can. I look at the usual hidden freckles help with the action. The purpling lip however pulling away from the effect.

“Of what?” I ask. I lift up my brow. I feel the cool metal of my brow piercing against my face. I almost forgot that I had it in.

“Me. My powers, my throng of followers and men begging at my feet,” she brags. I snort as I shake my head. I put my hands on my hips.

“If only you got dick as big as your ego,” I tease. She rolls her eyes playfully. We stay in a peaceful silence. It’s weird we haven’t been this friendly in a while. She has gotten more closed off as we’ve gotten older and I’m not any better. We both deal with our own shit, yet always end up back into the same shitty corner.

“How bad is it?” She asks quietly. It’s not the first bruise that she’ll have to cover up and I hate that it won’t be the last.

“It’ll heal by morning,” I admit. I wish she would do something, I wish she would let me do something to the fucker. Chandler sighs as she touches her lip subconsciously. The room is quiet, I wonder how long she’ll deal with this. Why does she deal with this?

“Would...,” she closes her eyes as she leans back and looks up to the ceiling. She seems drained, broken, much like how she was when we both got fucked over by life. “Will you read to me?”

I freeze in shock, I haven’t heard that request in ages. I walk over and grab my book. I take my usual seat- the one she installed so I could do this for her and open to where I was. I find my spot and start to read the lines. My voice carrying out into the room. Chandler closes her eyes as she listens, her breathing controlled and even. I push off the wall; back, forth, back, forth, back-


	8. The Warnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I fixed up a bunch of chapters and I added LOTS to this one (mostly at the beginning and end) I appreciate all of your support! Thank you all, Love you! Enjoy ;p

**Chapter 8: The Warnings**

**Chandler POV**

I gasp as I shoot up from the bed, sweat trickling down my face, causing my baby hairs to stick to my forehead and my clothes hugging my skin. I feel my heartbeat against my rib cage like some battle drum. I look around the room with wide eyes as my breaths are deep and panicked. I lean my forehead and rest my hand against my face, the skin cool against it.

Dream, it was just a dream. No. I close my eyes as the memories flood me. It wasn’t a dream; it was the nightmare that my life has become. I sigh as my breathing and heart has regained control. I look across the room to my mirror. My disheveled appearance and dark bags under my eyes shine in the moonlight. What time is it? I lean over to click my phone: 3:12 a.m.

Fucking great. I sigh and toss it somewhere on my bed. I should probably change out of these clothes. I remove the blanket and stand up only to look down in question. Great, did I really fall asleep with yesterday’s clothes?

I walk to the bathroom to wash my face free of sweat. I pause as I look at the tile and glass doors. Perhaps a shower will help clear my head and get me to relax. I strip out of the disgusting sweat and blood coated clothes and toss them into the laundry.

I go to take my earrings out when I make an unfortunate eye contact with myself in the mirror. Green and blue bruises cover my skin where my clothes once covered. I sigh as I take out my ponytail and look at myself.

I am numb. I don’t feel anything as I close my eyes. You are Heather Chandler.

I open my eyes and avoid looking at myself.

You are in control.

…

**Mac POV**

I bounce my way to the jeep and open the door as I slide into the back. I smile as I put my bags on the tan seat next to me as postion myself in the middle. I lean forward and look at Duke; the unusual cold day of fall causes us to dress warmer than usual.

She is wearing black pantyhose with a dark sea foam green skater skirt and a dark blue and same shade green thick flannel, her hair straightens and held back by mirrored aviators, I smile to her as she shifts gears to drive.

“Morning Heather!”

I turn to Chandler, she is also wearing dark pantyhose with a cranberry colored skater skirt, a tight long light grey wool sweater and a cream-colored scarf, her hair up in a styled messy bun, bangs curled around her face. She taps on her Starbucks cup and I squeal as she hands me one wordlessly. Thank god, I love it when they do coffee runs. I sip and sigh as the caramel flavor hits my tongue.

“Morning Heather! Thanks for the ride and coffee!” I hum as I take another sip.

Duke scoffs before she takes a sip of hers as she checks both ways before turning out of my driveway, “You don’t have to thank us, you pillowcase.”

I pout as I lean back against the seat, I bring the cup up to take the taste of caramel goodness. I hope this wakes me up faster, I’m not good at staying awake during class; it bores me. I look at the road.

It’s beautiful as the green leaves on the trees turn to various colors of yellow, red, orange. It a foggy morning, bringing sense of mystery to the area as we descend our way to school. I’m mildly surprise that Chandler let Duke drive us; she’s usually adamant on driving, until the winter months. I look to the unusually quiet Heather.

She typically complains about school or Brad or tries to talk to us about something. She hates the quiet- even the radio is off. I drink sips as I look at her and I narrow my eyes as I notice something odd. A long pale pink scratch-like mark going down the side of the back of her neck. I lean forward to get a better look when she turns at my motion. I stop and freeze as I see the barley there mark on her lip. The pink lip-gloss covers it and I furrow my brow. What’s that?

I open my mouth when Duke clears her throat. I look at her in the mirror when she shakes her head subtitle as she keeps her eyes on the road. I look back at her mark and make a mental note to ask later. If Duke told me to keep quiet, it’s not a good sign. I wonder what happened. Unless she got into some mall fight that I wasn’t aware of, that mark was not on her yesterday.

We drive, the normal sights passing us in a blur. Westerburg is built in a valley; it’s a small town surrounded by a few tiny suburban areas and then farmlands, past those wooden mountains guarding them with a few lonely mansions sitting on top.

“Are we picking up Veronica too?” I ask in trying to change the peace. Chandler continues to tap the cup as she hums in thought.

“No, she must earn the right before she gets rides from us,” she answers.

“Oh,” I tilt my head, “I guess that makes sense...but how is she going to earn the right exactly?” I ask as I lean forward and look at Heather; trying to ignore her lip.

“Leave that to me. You’ll know.” Chandler states before she takes a sip of her own cup. Duke doesn’t add any input as she focuses on the road. The drive ends too fast for my liking as we pull up. The front two spot empty as always as Duke pulls into one. I’m not sure why but the student body always leaves these two open.

“Ugh, let’s get this day over with,” Chandler mumbles as she gets out of the car, her ankle boots clipping on the sidewalk.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this…but I agree with you,” Duke says as she leans back to grab her bag. Chandler lifts up her hand with her middle finger up. Duke brings her cup up, but I see the hidden smile. I shake my head at them.

 I grab my bags and follow Chandler as Duke walks next to me. A pair of boys rush to open the door for us, and Chandler winks a them. Duke rolls her eyes and hides behind her cup as one smiles at her. I smile in thanks at the two, the one’s cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink.

We walk in and I turn up next to Chandler as she is sandwiched by Duke and me. We walk with Chandler slightly ahead, we all take turns doing different rolls. Chandler keeping her head up and looks at no one, Duke sneering and looking down at the nerds and those deemed on ‘our’ list, me smiling at everyone and throwing flirty glances at the jock and hot boys.

I hesitate ready to turn into our usual bathroom pit stop, when Chandler keeps walking. I stumble to catch up and I glance forward to realize we’re headed straight for Veronica. She is dressed in ripped black pantyhose, a black skater skirt and a dark blue crop top with a golden zipper on it, her black leather jacket also on. Her brown hair is cut shorter like mine (shoulder length) into brown ringlets, and her only piercings are her cartilage and belly button. I look at them in interest, they look cool, maybe I should get mine pierced.

“Sawyer,” Chandler greets with her eyes glancing at the lower piercing. Veronica looks over and glances at us. She turns back and shifts her books in and out of her locker. “Where’s the outfit I helped you pick out?” She raises her brow expectantly. Duke looks down the tiny hole in her cup, frowning seemingly out.

“Morning Heathers,” she answers, “I am.  You picked out the skirt and I thought I should be allowed to subject my own clothes as well,” she slams a book inside as she rolls her eyes. Her makeup dark around them, “or is that going to be a problem?” She challenges.

Oh boy.

I look towards Chandler nervously. She purses her lips as she looks at Veronica, brow ticks slightly in annoyance. I look away as I turn my attention at the bright highlighted Skyball schedule on her door. Wait, why does she have that in there? I look at Veronica, I mean I have seen her a few times at practice…does she want to play? I mean she would have to be a mole with no wings, but she hasn’t shown any interest in it.

“Ready for your first day as part of the team?” Chandler asks ignoring the taunt- which is unusual for her. She clicks her pointer finger on the cup. I narrow my eyes, there is something wrong.

Veronica shuts her locker door, holding her books for the first periods. She smiles and sarcastically says, “Color me stoked!” Duke snorts and Chandler glares at the both of them.

“Don’t fuck this up newbie,” she takes a step forward and pokes her on the shoulder, “Remember if you want to fuck with the eagles you better learn how to fly.” She holds her gaze threateningly, “and fast.” There it is. Veronica just looks down at where Heather is touching her with slight disgust. Chandler pauses then turns to leave as her cranberry ankle boots click against the tile.

Duke follows after her and I turn to her and smile, “Ready?”

She sighs and mumbles, “As I’ll ever be.”

We catch up with Veronica in tow, she slides into my usual spot and snides at Heather and walks faster with her head held high. Chandler’s eyes glow red as she reclaims her spot as the front. Chandler never likes to walk next to people she prefers beings the lead. People part like the Red Sea as they stare, most whispering as the attention of Veronica brings forth new gossip and drama.

“Oh, her comes, Heather, Heather, Heather, and someone?”

“Omg who is she?”

“What a babe!”

Chandler smirk grows as she looks onto our newest member proudly, Veronica glances at the stares nervously. Duke rolls her eyes at the drooling boys as I step up to Veronica for moral support. You’ll get used to it.

…

**Veronica POV**

The rest of the day is boring, nothing major happens as the Heathers greeted me this morning. I got a few curious glances and more stares than normal as I followed the latter to class. Besides them sitting next to me in the few classes no one talks to me with my newfound popularity. I’m unsure if that’s a blessing or not. I mean it was only one time being seen with them. Lunch will be the major test. No one sits with the Heathers- not even their favorite boy toys; Kurt and Ram.

Both on the Skyball team and pompous future date-rape asswipes. Ram Sweeney favorite hobby is smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick. While his bromance Kurt Kelly is the smartest guy in the team which isn’t saying much, kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“What caused that smirk on your face?” Betty asks as she scoots over towards me, she frowns, “Ugh don’t tell me a boy asked you out because of your involvement in the whore parade.”

I shake my head as my smirk grows, “No I compared thee,” I nudge towards Kurt as she stares off into the distance with drool coming out of his mouth, “intellect as thy would the tallest dwarf.”

Betty snorts as she holds out her hand to be punched, “Niceeeee.” I smile as I return her gesture. She taps her black painted short nails on the desk. She bites her lips as she moves the ring in and out of her bottom lip.

“Hey Veronica?” She says as she looks away. I turn to her.

“Yeah?”

“I want to say that I’m sorry,” she slides down further in her seat, “I shouldn’t have said what I said last week at lunch and I don’t like this space that I made between us. So sorry for being a bitch.”

I blink not expecting an apology, “Oh.” I sit there as she looks at me pleadingly.

“I mean what you said was harsh, but not unnecessarily untrue.” She turns her head sideways in question.

I bite my lip hesitate to tell one of my best friends that I ditched them for the popular squad, I ditched them so I could get clothes to be seen with them, I ditched them so I could get dressed up by the Heathers, I ditched them so…so…I could ditch them today at lunch.

“So, you ready for today?” She nudges me with her foot, “Pretty big deal sitting with the Draco Malfoys of the school.”

Oh god Betty you and your analogies. I’d be more surprised the day she runs out then the ones she says.

“Oh, come on they’re not that bad.” I poorly attempt to argue.

She gasps, “Oh no! They already converted you!” She leans forward, “Please tell me you don’t have your Horcrux as a hair assertory too.”

Heathers bright infamous scrunches and bows pop into my head. They haven’t really worn them in a while, I mean I guess not- as the trend was more a 1980’s thing.

I snort, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Betty smiles at me and her eyes soften before she slouches in her chair and sighs, bangs covering part of her face. She flicks them out of the way, as she turns to me. I start to doodle in my journal bored, and I focus getting the shading right in my flower. I glance up as I feel the cool texture of nails.

“Ronnie?” I furrow my brows as Betty’s hesitation, “Just-,” she huffs more so at herself as she retracts her hand but I feel her tail curl around my hip, “… just don’t let the fame go to your head okay?”

I put my pencil down as I stare at her, “Now you’re being weird.” I punch her lightly on the shoulder, “Don’t worry Bets you’ll always have me.” I say to her and make a promise silently. She smiles and I feel as her tail tightness before she playfully shoves me and I laugh.

“Don’t be so soft Rons, but seriously you need to tell us what it’s like sitting with them.” She blinks dreamily, “All that power.”

“Don’t worry I’m sure it won’t be that big of a difference.”

She lifts her pierced brow, “Oh? I doubt anyone will throw food or make fun of you as you sit there, or harass you?” I cringe, knowing she’s right.

“Yeah, you got me there.”

Finally, the lunch bell rings and I go to meet them at the cafeteria. Betty looks at me and salutes me with two fingers, “Have fun.”

“Oh yeah, geeze thanks.”

I collect my books and walk out the door to find that I’m being waited on. Duke is standing outside of my class and I’m mildly disappointed that it’s not Mac at least she’s attempts to be nicer on occasion. Duke looks as exhilarated as I feel.

“What? Had to escort me to the cafeteria? I know where it is.”

Duke looks at me expressionless, I fight to shiver at her poker face.

“Heather sent me.” I am about to answer when someone grabs me, and I just have visions of being slammed into the lockers- I turn to see a surprised McNamara.

“God, Veronica!” She smiles at me in apology before standing next to Duke.

I put my hand over my racing heart as I fix my hair, as it moved by my scare. Annoyed I ask, “What’s your damage Heather?”

Mac pouts as she looks to Duke, “Don’t blame me, blame Heather. She says to haul your ass into the caf pronto,” she lowers her voice to match the stern bitchy voice. I smile as I point.

“Eh, that’s pretty good.”

Mac bursts into a smile as she jumps up and down excited, “Hey thanks! But let’s go before she gets mad.”

Duke rolls her eyes as she follows the bouncing yellow ball, “Yeah we wouldn’t want to do that, now would we?”

I follow the two as we see the back of Heather as she looks into the cafeteria. She turns to the sound of our approach, with a scowl and a clipboard in hand at her hip.

“Hello Heather,” I say in greeting as the other two line up in their usual spots. I notice that both Mac and Chandler are carrying fancy lunch boxes, damn that’s a good idea maybe I should pack. Nah, I’m too lazy.

“Veronica. Finally.” She pauses before she wears and condescending smirk, “Ready to graduate from the loser squad?”

I glare showing my displeasure, “Don’t call them that...please.” I add on for safety.

Heather sighs as she turns to look at the others, they follow in line and I take a deep breath. Okay, I got this. Chandler opens the doors and as expected most of the attention follows her through the cafeteria. Chandlers eyes glow a dull red and everyone looks at them in awe and admiration as her power drags over the masses. I used to feel a wanting admiration, a need to be with them, a want to be free and like them. I watch as Chandler controls them like a puppet, where she wants them; they follow. All of the Heathers, Chandler the main master, the others just as dangerous welders. Maybe now that I see the strings, they won’t affect me as much.

I follow them to their table, as I try to ignore the stares, but I feel a burning sensation as I glance over to the far wall were Mathews stands. Hair in a curled mess as his eyes have dark bags under them making him look dangerous, a white bandage covers his nose as a green and yellow bruise sports on his chin. He looks at me hatefully and my anxiety and nerves increase. I put my head down, hiding my face with my hair as I try to catch up.

When suddenly I feel the familiar catch of a leg. I bash on the floor with a bang, heat covers my cheeks as embarrassment and frustration floods me. No! It wasn’t supposed to be like this! I’m with the Heathers now- they were supposed to...I look up with wide eyes and I clench my hands in frustration. Everyone is looking now; the only noise is the awkward cough and my heart beating in my chest. A mile a minute.

Mac looks down with wide eyes as her hands cover her mouth in shock. Duke looks down with a raised brow, as if it’s my fault I’m down here. And Chandler, she looks down to me with a slight sneer.

Chandler looks around and puts her hands on her hips and starts to laugh. An awful, mocking, demented laugh. A few awkward chuckles join and soon the whole cafeteria starts to laugh at me. I curl my nails into my palms as I get to my hands and knees, humiliation drops with my stomach. Tears collect but I refuse to let them fall.

God Betty was right about them. What was I thinking? I’m a nobody, a loser, I glance up to see the almighty laugh, shame causes an ugly hard feeling in my chest. Why am I so stupid?

“Wow, that was quite something,” Heather says sickening sweet. “Who tripped her?” For a moment people pause unsure. She bats her long lashes and coos,” Aw don’t be like that, come on out don’t be shy.” I wipe my nose and eyes to get rid of anything. I already look bad doesn’t mean I have to look bad.

A freshman with sandy hair waves, “It was me.”

The Heathers home in on him, Chandler sways her hips as she approaches. His eyes follow her body, liking what he sees. Gross. He smiles, his teeth white and straight and Chandler strokes his cheek with her hand as she bends down to play with the back of his hair.

“You tripped Sawyer, correct?” She purrs. He grins.

“So that’s the nerds name?” I narrow my eyes, why that little-

“Ah!” I blink and Heather has is head slammed into his lunch and holding it there. Spaghetti covering half of his face and hair as he tenses and struggles. Chandler snarls in warning and now the room reeks of fear.

Her eyes are blood red as she looks up and addresses the room.

“Veronica Sawyer is with the Heathers now. If anyone has a problem with that,” she pushes down on his head causing him to help in pain as she stares at the country table then narrows her eyes on Mathew, “Will have to deal with us.”

…

**Chandler POV**

The boy looks to me with wide terror filled eyes (well the one that’s not covered in sauce) and I would love nothing more to rip him apart myself, but I just got my nails done. I look over to see Mac help Veronica up. I watch with a dropped heart as she wipes her eyes with her wrist secretively. She looks down as Mac looks to her helplessly, she looks so broken and this boy, caused it. I curl my lip in a growl as I press his face harder into his meal-he whimpers. Everyone around us is frozen and their aromas of fear is intoxicating, my demon is lapping it up like a kitten with a bowl of cream.

“Kurt! Ram!” I call for them.

In a moment both boys scramble forward. They wear their usual leatherman jackets, and grass stained jeans. These two are admittedly more of Mac's toys to command but they won't hesitate to follow my orders either. They throw a nervous glance towards each other as they wait for my directions.

“Yeah Chandler?” Kurt asks me while I glance down to the boy. How dare he touch one of us, he needs to pay. I step back and the boy bring his head up with a gasp, apparently, it's hard to breathe with your head being pushed into a pile of noodles. He looks like the dude from Braveheart but instead of blue the other half is painted in watered down red sauce. His face and clothes are admittedly covered in it. I smile as I turn to them, and I flutter my lashes with a pout.

"My, my it seems that the young freshman seems to have gotten some food on his face," I turn to the boy who looks at me with a abhor expression, but I don't care, "Why don't you two take him to the bathroom to help him freshen up?"

The boys’ eyes open wide as he grabs the table with an iron grip; much like a dirty child about to be thrown in a bath. Kurt smiles wickedly picking up on my meeting as Ram follows just happy to torture any freshman that attends this school. Kurt grabs his collar of the shirt, and the kid bravely grabs his wrist.

"Get off!" he says. Ram rushes forward to backup Kurt as he lifts the kid up from the other side.

"Lay off freshmeat!" Ram growls, the kid struggles and ends up splashing some of the sauce onto their jackets. Both Kurt and Ram pause to see the new stains, they look up in anger.

"You just stained our jackets?"

"You're gonna pay for that!"

With a newfound anger the two huge jocks lift up the tinier boy to go clean his head in the toilets. When the doors swivel shut, I turn to the crowd and bark, "What are you all looking at? Never seen jocks beat up a nerd before?"

Like magic the cafeteria returns to a chattering mess and I flick my bangs out of my face as I prowl to my table. Mac and Veronica sit on one side and Duke sitting on the end of the other. I take my seat in the middle by Duke. I look forward to see Veronica looking down at the table with her head half hidden in her hands. I frown not liking her defeated state.

"Will you sit up?" I hiss as I lean forward with narrowed eyes. Mac stops whispering to her as she pauses to look at me, even Duke looks over to watch my exchange. Veronica lifts up her head startled before she rolls her eyes.

"Why? You saw what happened! They'll never accept me as one of you, I'm just some nerd that is trying kid with herself."

I frown as Duke looks over with an 'I told you so' expression. I narrow my eyes at Duke before reaching across the table to grab her wrist away from her face so I can see both of her eyes. Veronica flinches and pulls away and I hold on tighter until she looks at me.

"Look Sawyer, I didn't just save your ass _again_ just for you to throw yourself a pity party." She narrows her eyes but is now listening, " You came to us with the deal and I just uphold my end of the bargain, but now it's time for you to get your big girl panties on and stop being a fucking pillowcase and uphold you're end of the deal."

I let go of her wrist for her to cradle it towards her chest and check it for injuries. I flick my gaze back down to it before returning to her brown orbs.

"You're a Heather now and you better act like one real quick; unless you want to return to your loser state."

I turn my head towards her old table where Finn is glaring at us, she holds my eyes before angrily stabbing her salad, and Dumptruck consulting her, a random boy sleeping at the end of the table.

"Hey leave them alone!" I turn to her to see the fire that I saw that day against Mathew. I lean back and smile, she pauses to look at me curiously as I point to her.

“You’re so freaking bipolar. You just stood up for your friends to _me_. The most powerful demon in this school, but the second someone picks on you-you turn tail. I won’t accept that on my team. You better stop it now,” I shine my eyes red at her and she gulps.

“It-t....Okay.” She mumbles.

"Good now you and Duke should go get food."

Mac and Veronica turns to me in surprise and Duke glares at me in betrayal. I motion to the lunch line with my head and stare at her until Duke frowns. She grabs onto Veronica's shirt.

"Come on."

They get up and I sigh as I realize that I was tapping on the table again. Damn, I need to fix that habit. I go to open my strawberry salad, when I feel a gentle hand on my thigh.

I look over to Mac, "Yes?"

She bites her lip in a pause, "Are you okay?"

I look at her curiously, "Why would you ask that?" She stares at her lunchbox as she takes out her meal.

"Well besides putting that kid’s head into his meal and then telling Duke to get lunch...you've just seemed off this morning. So, do you need to talk about anything?"

I sigh, "Heather, I showed that kid whose boss because of the deal with V-Sawyer," Mac shows me an unimpressed face, "and it helps our image as rulers of the school. I sent Duke to get lunch with her as Sawyer's protection and to expand the image that she's with us now. I don't actually expect Duke to eat anything.” I stab a few pieces of lettuce.

"Then why were you so quiet this morning? You hate silence." Mac asks as she turns the yellow apple in her hand. The brown specks reminding me much of Macs own freckles on her skin.

"I can't just want a quiet morning before I entire this dump?" I ask as I bring my hand up to rest my chin in it as I chew my meal. I look over to see a stewing Duke as stands next to an unsure looking Veronica.

Huh, she looks somewhat decent when she dresses not like an emo-tragic nerd. I feel Mac’s baby blues on me and I turn to see her looking at me in doubt.

I huff, "Okay fine I didn't sleep last night."

"Why?"

I groan as I roll my eyes, somewhat annoyed at her questions. "Why? Mac are you sure, you aren't acting weird?" I turn to her as she pouts and narrows her eyes at me, not in malice but like she’s trying to figure something out.

"Heather. Why didn't you sleep well?" She pushes.

"Damn, if I know Heather, just couldn't, okay?" I stab my salad with a little more force, the lettuce and croutons breaking.

The table goes silent as the normal murmur of the surrounding tables overtake us. I continue to watch Duke and Veronica’s progress in the line as I eat my meal.

"I don't believe you,” I hear Mac whisper. 

"What do you want me to say?" I sigh, as I bring my hand to my forehead as I move my bangs out of my face as I turn to her.

"I want you to tell me the truth!” Her eyes flash golden yellow.

I’m momentarily shocked- Mac rarely ever lets her power out only when it’s too much from the lack of use or when she an extremely upset.

“Like did he hit you again!?" Mac whisper-yells as she places her hand onto my knee. I restrain myself from flinching or tensing. How-

My eyes narrow into slits and I knock her hand away, "Did Duke tell you that?"

"I-I.." I watch as her anger turns into uncertainty. Her eyes return to their regular color. There is an awkward pause as I stare at Mac as she squirms uncomfortably under my gaze.

"No... I saw…," she looks around to make sure no one is listening as she touches her lip on the upper left side.

Oh.

I bring my hand up and stop before I touch where my lip is-was split.

"Can you see it now?" I ask quietly. People can’t know that the demon queen can bleed too. She squints her eyes and gets uncomfortably close.

"Not anymore." She pulls back and I let out a breath of relief. Mac’s perfume of honey and Lilies washes over me from her proximity.

I turn my body away from her, “Then it's no longer a concern." I take my fork up to eat my lunch, hoping she'll drop the topic.

"But Heather-" She persist.

"Stop,” I command with a steel voice. I see her still at my order.

"But-”

 I whip to face her my eyes red from her fighting against me. I don’t need her pity.

“I said no, Mac.”

Mac shuts her mouth and stares at me with similar glowing eyes. Mac barley gets worked up and I am concerned for her but she needs to not be concerned about me. I’m dealing with it.

"Um...are we interrupting something?" Veronica asks hesitantly as both her and Duke look between us. Both of Duke’s brows raises when she sees both of our eyes glowing. They sit down, one more cautiously than the other.

“No, and it’s not any of your business Sawyer,” I answer as I relax- my eyes returning to their silver color. Mac huffs in answer but she turns her attention to them. I watch as she puts on a strained smile.

“Oh, they’re serving Jello today? That’s fun.” Duke looks at her curiously before she shakes her head in dismissal. She grabs her Jello and slide it over to Mac.

“Knock yourself out,” Duke says as she picks up her book that she seemingly brought to lunch. She opens it and continues to read, “Don’t even start we both know I’m not going to eat it.” Mac shuts her mouth and smiles slightly as she rips the top open.

“Are we doing anything tonight?” I look over as Veronica asks, “Cause is like to know.” I grimace at the half-eaten food in her mouth.

I hold up my hand in a number one, “First of all chew your food, no one wants to see that. Second, why does it matter to you?”

Veronica has the good graces of looking embarrassed, “Well I kinda have something going on later so.”

“What could be so important that you’d ditch us?” I challenge. Veronica stops eating and looks up.

“For your information I was planning on hanging out with someone friends tonight-”

“What?” I snort, “Renting movies with the loser squad?”

Veronica’s cheeks turn red as I hit the nail on the head.

“Actually, Heather I can’t hangout either. I have practice tonight.” Mac interjects.

“Oh, right you’re head captain of the Skyball team this year,” Veronica says with an interested gleam.

Mac shrugs as she twirls her hair, “I mean yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

“What? That’s awesome!” Veronica argues.

“I didn’t take you as a fan,” I say.

Veronica rolls her eyes, “Please Skyball is so much better than the Dome matches anyone knows that.” Mac looks excited to have someone agree with her view and I sit there in cluelessness as they take off about the team and the schools. I look over to Duke and can’t help but envy her literature protection.

I stand up, “While you losers talk, I will be doing the poll.”

I hold up my clipboard for effect. Mac nods as Veronica salutes. I sigh as I go to the Country kids first. I hear as Courtney says to one of her lackeys.

“Shit here comes Heather.” I can’t help but smile at my unwantedness. It pleases me to know that they don’t want to deal with me just like how I despise them.

“Hello, country bumpkins. I have the lunch time poll for you today,” they all frown at my name, “A gang member has beaten up a member of your group, do you take revenge and live with the consequences or do you alert the attorneys and risk them walking away clean? If you do plan on acting on revenge what do you recommend on doing?”

…

**Duke POV**

I feel the coldness of the concrete floor kiss my shoulder blades as I lay on the hard wood of my skateboard. The smell of metal, rust and oil hits my face as I look at the inner organs of my baby. I grab a wrench and start to take apart my car checking for cracks and leaks as I clean her from the inside out. I take a deep breath as the cranking of the tool echoing of the empty space and the aroma of the oil bring a different type of relaxation to my body that literature can’t.

Here I can be in charge. It’s just me and my Jeep. Here I can decide what fits and what I can replace. I can make and chose what I want-

“Heather!”

I sit up as the sudden noise scares me and I end up slamming my frontal lobe into the exhaust line and I groan as I lean against the board. A feeling in my stomach pulls in a sickening familiar way and I swallow back the nausea.

“Heather, get out from under there!” The lovely voice of Heather orders and I huff as a bit of anger kicks in. I grab the bottom part of my door and roll out and I look up into the narrowed silver eyes.

“I called you several times,” she informs me. She looks down with narrowed eyes and a hand cocked on her hip. Her hair is all curled and she is wearing a tight navy-blue dress with black stockings and tall black boots.

I glare as I roll my eyes, “If you couldn’t tell, I don’t have my phone on me. Now, you know where I am.” I go to slide back under when I feel the heel of a shoe on my stomach. I stop as I get rolled back.

“Go clean up, we’re leaving in an hour.” I am ordered. She crosses her arms in an ‘not negotiable’ manner.

I grit my teeth, “Who says that I want to go?”

“I do. Now come on,” she throws one of my extra rags, “clean the soot and oil off. No one is going to want you to smell like motor oil.”

I sit up and I begrudgingly start to wipe my face, “Where are you dragging me this time?”

“Remington.”

I pause, “What?”

“Satan. Did you eat a brain tumor for breakfast? I said Remington. Now hurry up, we don’t want to be late,” she huffs ignoring my look. I tighten the rag in my hand.

“Why are we going there?” I grit out. She just healed and she seriously wants to go back?!

“Why wouldn’t we? To keep up our status of course. How many people do you know from high school gets invited to them?” She brags as she looks and me condescendingly.

“Is he going to be there?” I snarl. I rip the rag as my nail enlarge.

“Duh, he’s throwing it. What got into you?” She asks bored.

She takes out her phone as it beeps and she types. I look at her. How can she go back to him? How can she keep sleeping with that asshat when he treats her like shit? She is so much stronger than him. Why does she put up with it?

“I don’t think we should go.” I tell her.

“Well, I don’t care what you think.”

“God, damn it!” She jumps surprised at my shout, “Why do you do this?”

I wait for an answer as I scan her face, but she has learned how to keep everything hidden when she wants to. She turns around and I watch her walk through the door

“Hurry up.”

I snarl as I throw the towel against the ground. I sit up and reach over my scattered tools to grab my phone. Ignoring my black smears, I put on the screen I type.

**MAC ATTACK Xp: Come over now.**

…

“I came as fast as I could,” Mac says as she walks through the door. She is wearing black leggings and a comfy crewneck. It has holes specially stitched for her wings as they stick out. She must’ve flown here from practice.

“Did you leave your stuff there?” I ask.

She turns to me and blinks, “No? I put it in my locker in the locker room. I had to shove it in but it fit.”  I nod in understanding. She looks around the large open room, seemingly looking for something.

“Where’s Heather?”

“Probably doing some finishing touches,” I sigh as I sit on the marron couch. I bring my legs up as rest my chin in my hand. My hair tickles against my cheek in a wet braid. Mac sits next to me.

“Getting ready for what?” She tilts her head like a dog.

“A Remington party?”

“What?” she whispers as she grabs the material of her pants.

“Yep,” I pop the ‘p’. Mac looks to the floor and I can feel the anger and worry come off over her.

“Why is she even going?”

I huff, “To maintain our image.” I say with quotations. Mac could honestly give two shits about what we appear like.

“That’s bullshit!” Mac says to the excuse, “Why does she go back to that...that...jerk?! He’s only using her and he treats her so bad? Why,” her voice cracks,” Why does she’s let herself go through that?”

“I know but there’s nothing that we can do.” I relent. I know arguing with Heather is futile. Once Chandler makes up her mind, it’s not going to change no matter what. I watch as Mac struggles with the same information that I did.  

“ ** _There is something that I can do._** ” I whip my head as I see Mac look up the stairs with a determination that I haven’t seen in a long time. Her eyes glowing a fiery gold- Shit.

“Whoa, Mac?” I ask as I shift away from her. I feel my throat dry as her scent hits me like a freight train. I almost forgot how powerful Mac is when she wants to be. I stand and walk across the room to gain some space. I watch her as I cross an arm over my roaring stomach.

Like a bullet, her wings spread and she takes off up the stairs, “Mac!”

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I yell as I sprint after her. She can’t be serious!? What is she thinking? To use her powers on Chandler?! That’s- shit-when was the last time Mac used her’s? A week? Month?

“Fucking hell!” I yell as I double my speed. I have to stop Mac before she does this stupid plan of hers! I get down the hall where Chandler’s room sits and I listen but the only thing playing is the music from Heather’s room. I don’t hear any struggle-or fighting. The only thing I can feel is a single pulsing of a power and I look up to see Mac attached to the ceiling like some sort of vampire in horror movies.

She drops and makes no noise in her landing. She creeps up to the door and I run as I tackle her as she burst into the room. Mac in this state flips me over and harshly shoves me into the floor as her hand goes over my throat. I grab onto her arm and-

…

“No please stop!!!! Please!!!” My throat raw from screaming. My stomach tight as a different type of nausea hits me. I have to take deep fast breaths to keep up with my gut retching sobs. I feel hot, burning tears streak down my cheeks. My vison blurry, yet the image before me so clear.

Heather kneels as tears threaten to spill as the black mass stands over her. A loud smack resounds and her skin turns red with the shape of its hand. It grabs her cheeks so she is forced to look at it. Her eyes widen in fear as her clothes are split and ripped. Her body bruised as dried and fresh blood stick to her skin.

I blink as the tears roll. It grabs her and hiss, “You are so pathetic, you think that you can escape from me?!” It tosses her and she lands on the ground limp.

I struggle and pull against some invisible force, “Stop!” I beg. “Please stop, please!”

It strolls its black whispering smoky mass over the fallen girl. She doesn’t fight and I watch frozen as its long claws picks her up, she stays limp as the only thing she can move her eyes and mouth. It seems to be draining away her will. As it circles its huge hand around her throat, she turns to look me in the eyes.

Her fear shocks me as a final tear escape her eyes, “Help”, she mouths. I pull and I wail as a sickening crunch echos in the room. Her body drops to the floor and I freeze as I stare at it.

Heather…

“My…my…what did you do?” It asks me. I shake but a slight bit of anger causes me to be brave.

“Me? You killed her you fucking psycho! I will kill you for this!” I yell as I strain and try to get to it.

It smiles as the sickly green orbs burn with hunger. It leans back and laughs a horrifying cackle, “I did nothing!”

It points to me, as it nears. I pause and watch it carefully. I try to keep the fear from my face as it circles me, it’s one long claw drags along my cheek.

“You did _everything._ ”

It grabs my face and forces me to look out to see…my eyes widen as I see the mounds of bodies. I look up with fear as the faces of my classmates blankly look back at me. The red out Heather pops out at the bottom, then- I resist the bile as I see the sweet face of Mac- turned upside down, blood leaking from her mouth as her white eyes shine.

“You caused this, because you don’t embrace who you are. You are this. Can’t you feel it? You took their strength, their life and now it’s yours. No Chandler to rule over you with a tight leash. No pest like Mac to force you to hate yourself even more. No students to impress and now you can welcome me.”

I close me eyes and rip my head out of its grasp.

“I don’t want anything to do with you!” I yell.

I chuckles as it rounds the front of me, I keep my head stubbornly down, “Oh Heather, don’t you see?” It grabs my face and I am pulled to look in it’s glowing eyes. The smoke clears as the mass becomes more solid and clear.

“I am you.” I fall as she let’s me go and I look up to see my own face laugh and I shake.

“No! No! No!” I get up and tackle her-only to land on top of something cold and the smell of death it’s my nose. With horror I realize that I landed on the corpse on the top of the pile.

I grab my ears as the laugh echos. The body moves and I fall back as hands of the dead grab me and they wail, “Why did you kill us Heather?” “Demon! Cursed Child! Satanists!”

“NO!” I scream as I close my eyes.

…

I gasp as I get pulled out of the vision. I feel warm tears and sweat streak down my face and I look up to a tear-filled worried Mac being restrained by an angry Chandler.

“What the fuck is going on?”


	15. AUTHORS NOTE

Hi guys, I am going to be taking a break from writing because I am getting swamped with school work and need to focus on that. I also feel like I could do better with the chapters, so I plan to go back through and fix my gramical errors and just add stuff to my satisfaction. I appreciate everyone who has commented and left kudos and just taken the time out of their day to read my story. I love you all and I hope you have a good day and hope you understand thank you so much.

Love the author

 

*UPDATE 4/8/2019: FIXED AND ADDED THINGS UP TO CHAPTER 5. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PACTIENCE. ;P * 

* UPDATE 5/13/2019: FIXED AND ADDED THINGS TO THE NEW CHAPTER 6 and 7. THANKS GUYS FINALS AND WORK IS KICKING MY ASS. LOVE YOU ALL!*

*5/17/2019: OKAY SO I CAUGHT UP IN FIXING PAST CHAPTERS (ADDED LOTS TO 8) AND I AM STARTING ON NEW MATERIAL AND I'LL DO MY BEST TO ADD CHAPTERS BUT I HAVE TO DO LOTS OF EXTERNSHIP HOURS (IN MED FIELD F- EXTERNSHIP) SO I'LL DO MY BEST :D* 


	16. I haven’t left this fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I’m still alive just busy with work and figuring out adulting. I am currently writing chapters for this story before I post any. Thanks for the patience but here’s a taste of what’s to come.

I turn around the crowd. It’s different from the other places; this is dirty and the demons are savages. I look scrunch up my nose as I pass a demon with spikes shooting out of his head smelling so strongly of booze and smoke it makes my eyes water. The crowd is so thick I have to touch some of them as I weave my way through, why the hell is Betty here? 

The crowd roars and I get shoved against the wooden bars I glower at the crowd unsure who was so rude. Alcohol splashed as cry’s of anger and victory shout towards the fight. I gap as two of the Hydra’s heads rip into the Minotaur’s side as it roars and splits apart the one head with its bare hands. I thought these two creatures of hell were rare how the hell did they get them here? I pushed myself from the bloody scene to a clear area. A few demons with nicer clothes sit smoking with various beautiful women and demons alike surrounding them. I scoff, typical. 

I frown as the guards snarl at me as I look for two long and I turn when a voice stops me. 

“Sir would you like ice with your rocks and coke?” I swivel around to see Betty...or what I hope isn’t Betty. This girl is wearing a skintight sparkly grey cocktail dress with dark makeup and hair styled back with sparkled gel. Her tail curling around her thigh and dress so low cut that her boobs practically pop out. Heels so tall that I you could stab someone’s heart out. I didn’t even know Betty owns heels let alone could walk in them. Her glasses are gone with her eyes surrounded by black makeup brings a sexy dangerous look.

“Betty?!” I gasp. 

Her head swishes to mine and her eyes widen in surprise and fear. 


End file.
